


Silent Lucidity

by Ventorum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Adventure, Boys Kissing, Fallen Castiel, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship/Love, Frottage, Human Castiel, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mute Dean Winchester, Romance, fallen!cas, mute!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ventorum/pseuds/Ventorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will it take to make Dean realize he loves his angel? By the time he realizes, will it be too late for him to speak up? <br/>"Just <em>once</em>, I'd like to think the worst is over - and actually be right. I don't know how much longer I can keep fighting, if all I ever get for my trouble is <em>more</em> trouble."<br/>On the way back from a bar one night, Cas saves Dean from attack. But how much is Dean willing to give in order to rescue Cas, who has given everything for him? Dean may have to deal with just how "profound" their bond has become.<br/>Demons, angels, sword fights, sacrifice, love, family, shrieking eels. Okay... no shrieking eels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunk, drunker, drunken.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFnet
> 
> Set after Season 5, but Sam kept his soul.

Things weren't like they used to be. Sam seemed to carry an extra burden these days. He didn't laugh as easily as he used to. It was as though his angst-meter had been cranked up to eleven. He hadn't been a laughing prankster in years. Dean missed it. He thought of those days as the tail end of Sam's childhood. If someone had told him back then, that those days would come to be considered the 'good times'… Damn his Winchester heritage. It sucked!

He had tried to re-initiate the games but it was no fun pranking certain people if they were just going to be the bigger man about it. It just made you look like a douche. Dean felt it was his brotherly duty to try to get Sam to loosen the hell up.

"Come on, Sam. You haven't gone out for a drink in weeks."

Sam ignored him in favour of reading a news website.

"Dean, I don't feel like it, okay? When I feel like it, I'll go."

"You need to get out and meet people."

Dean's unconscious hand gestures made it clear that these "people" wore a C cup or larger and Sam should be "meeting" them in an intimate manner. Repeatedly.

Sam rolled his eyes and as far as Dean could see, the only reason Sam hadn't sighed loudly was because his lips were too tightly pursed. He looked like he was ready to burst a blood vessel from bottling up the bitch-face. This wasn't going according to Dean's plan.

"Take Cas, Dean. He has a higher tolerance for your… antics."

"Oh good, 'cause for a second there I thought your were gonna say "my crap" and I was gonna have to retaliate by doctoring your skin care products."

"Mature, Dean."

"Bite me."

"Jack ass."

Sam was pissy as hell, but this was a version of Sam that Dean welcomed. It was familiar. He pulled out his never-fail cheeky grin.

"Come on!"

"NO, Dean. I am not nursing a beer all night -"

"Not my fault you're a light weight."

"-while I watch you get progressively drunker and hit on college girls. Call Cas."

As though summoned by the mention of his name Cas was suddenly just there, standing between the glaring brothers.

"Its 'more drunk'."

"What?"

"Its 'progressively more drunk' or 'more drunken', not 'drunker'", Cas repeated.

Sam just pursed his mouth like he'd eaten a lemon and stared at Cas in what Dean liked to call the 'stone-cold-bitch-face'. It made Dean uncomfortable, which he would never admit, but seemed to have no effect on Cas. It was time to interrupt the awkward nerd stare-off.

"Fine! I'll take Cas!" Dean continued under his breath, but loud enough so that Sam would hear, "PMS or something, I swear…" Secretly Dean thought it was awesome that Cas had managed to correct Sam's grammar.

"'Drunker' is just as acceptable as 'more drunk'!" Sam called after them.

Dean left the hotel room, waving for Cas to follow. He felt more comfortable talking to Cas without Sam anyway. Cas had a way of going straight to the point without hesitation. This could be taken as awkward or rude but for Dean it was a refreshing change from having to dance around touchy topics. Cas listened to Dean with that serious expression, like what he said mattered. It was occasionally amusing explaining common expressions to Cas, but mostly it was a load off Dean's shoulders to say what was on his mind without worrying about being psycho-analysed by Sam, or inadvertently setting off Sam's automatic guilt-reflex. Cas also tended to call Dean on his bullshit. Every silver lining had its cloud.

"Cas, I want to go out drinking and I need a wingman to talk me up to the ladies. Well, I don't _need_ one, but it will speed things up."

"Isn't this duty normally assigned to Sam?"

"Sam's still in a weird funk. I can't get him to do anything that might even _accidentally_ resemble fun."

"He hasn't forgiven himself yet. Or me."

"I know. He should be angry at _me_. Well,…I guess he is."

They both very deliberately didn't mention hell, or souls. They stood in the hotel car park admiring the conversational dead end they had created until Dean gave in.

"So, wanna be my wingman?"

"I have no practical experience in being a "wingman", although I may be naturally suited to the role."

There was a pause which Dean imagined was Cas congratulating himself on his grasp of humour. Sure enough, Dean could see the tiniest curve of a smile and perhaps a small hint of humour in the eyes.

"Yeah, you're hilarious. I'll explain the rules to you when we get there... You don't have a problem with the drinking and the whoring?"

"Will they be married women?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Taken against their will?"

"No. -What? No!"

"Then no. I have no problem with it."

"Jeez… The day I need to take a woman against her will, I'm eating a bullet..." Dean shook his head. "…beating them off with a stick is more like it," he grinned. Cas didn't contradict him, even though he knew Dean hadn't really exercised his infamous promiscuity since before Sam jumped… well, not for a long time.

Dean felt better already. He could say stuff like "eating a bullet" without Sam suddenly staring at him as if Dean was about to actually do it.

Strange times, when Dean could have a good time with an angel of the Lord, better than with his own brother.


	2. Going, going, gone.

Dean was surprised by how quickly the hours went by.

Cas turned out to have a real knack for pool. Something about being able to picture the angles to shoot from, for the balls to take the right trajectory. Dean had been excited about that for all of two minutes, until he also found that Cas had an unerring, almost pathological, inability to hustle. It was impressive to watch and Cas seemed to enjoy the precision of it. Dean appreciated seeing Cas have a good time for a change.

Finally bored of watching Cas sink shot after shot, Dean insisted they leave the table, get a drink and "check out the talent". He ordered them both beers without consulting Cas. Unlike Sam, Cas didn't complain about having his drinks ordered for him.

Dean let his eye wander around the bar, into the shabby corners and around the sticky tables. Something was bugging him. Something felt …off. Well, Sam wasn't here, for a start. His survey of the room eventually brought his gaze back around to Cas, who was still staring at him. Yep, that must be what was weirding him out.

"Dude. Stop staring. If you don't blink, people are going to think you're a Terminator. Also - it's creepy."

"Sorry." Cas blinked, very deliberately. Then he glanced away to an ancient, smudged Specials Board. Dean wondered if Cas had blinked sarcastically...Nah. Although…did Cas look like he was trying not to smile?

A thought belatedly occurred to him.

"Hey, what are you doing down here in the dust with us anyway? Don't you have heavenly duties or something?"

"Yes, but they are not constant. I can find time to "check in"". Cas did that quotation marks thing with his fingers. He stared at his crooked fingers for a moment then looked back at Dean.

"Was my usage correct?" he asked with a look of genuine concern that had Dean grinning. He hastened to reassure Cas.

"Yeah. You did good," he replied, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Cas looked pleased with himself which made Dean a little happier himself.

Dean scanned the patrons of the bar again. There really wasn't anyone in the bar worth hitting on, unless you were into aging bikers and sad, desperate hipsters. As far as Dean was concerned, he and Cas were the only things this place had going for it.

"Okay, here's how the wingman thing usually works. We agree on a story that gets the girl interested -"

"What girl?" Cas interrupted, looking around the bar.

"Well, the one I tell you I'm interested in on the day. There isn't one here right now. I'm giving you an example."

"I see. Continue."

Dean noticed Cas wasn't really drinking his beer. Maybe next time he should let Cas choose his own drink?

"Yeah so we agree on a story that impresses or interests the girl. Usually I find the best is to stick to something simple, with an emotional hook. Like you could say I discovered my fiancée was cheating on me. Or that I'm a fire fighter who just resuscitated a puppy. You'd be surprised the number of women who are happy to kiss a guy who just sucked face with a dog. I tell you, it's weird."

His comment regarding sucking face with a dog got a smile out of Cas. Dean shook his head and drank some more beer.

Cas liked seeing Dean in a relatively light mood. Maybe now would be a good time to explain that he could see right through Dean's smart-assed shell to the soul within. Maybe it wasn't pure. Maybe it was a little tarnished, but you couldn't be a hero without sacrifices, and sacrifices left scars.

"Dean, in some ways you seem so … morally dubious."

"Yeah, well, you don't end up in hell for selling girl scout cookies." Dean toyed with the coaster and refused to meet Cas' eyes.

"You ended up in hell because you _asked_ to go there, Dean."

"That's _not_ what I asked for," Dean mumbled.

"Its what you agreed to, in return for what you asked for. A transaction."

"Whatever."

Cas wondered how many times he would have to save Dean before Dean would believe he was _worth_ saving. His belief wasn't getting across to Dean and it was frustrating him immensely. He remembered the itching bug bite he had incurred while he was temporarily without powers. This felt a lot like that but with no relief. He twisted the beer mug around on its coaster. "You like to sound cynical but I know, given the chance, you _would_ rescue the puppy."

Dean searched Cas' eyes for a long moment, as if looking for something, then sighed loudly.

"Yeah, but its never just a puppy suffering from smoke inhalation, is it? Its always a puppy suffering from smoke inhalation, next to the burning building full of screaming nuns with a coven of witches summoning the Lord of All Bad Things on the front lawn." He sounded tired.

Cas chuckled at Dean's exaggeration, and Dean smiled to see one of Cas' rare laughs but the smile faded fast.

"I never get to choose my priorities, Cas. Its always just… barely averting disaster. Or not." Cas blinked in surprise at how similar Dean's description seemed to his own situation.

"Just _once_ , I'd like to think the worst is over - and actually be right. I don't know how much longer I can keep fighting, if all I ever get for my trouble is _more_ trouble." Dean pushed aside his unfinished beer, not feeling like socializing any more. He wondered if Sam was asleep yet. It was doubtful. Sam didn't sleep as easily as he used to either.

"Lets get back."

They stood up simultaneously.

They were walking home down the gravel road, hands in pockets, companionably silent.

"Dean, I don't want to alarm you, but two men are following us."

"So deal with it. I dunno, zap them forward two hours. Or back two miles." Dean smiled to himself. This having-an-angel-on-your-side thing might be okay.

Cas was frowning and Dean wondered if maybe he felt taken for granted.

"You don't have to do anything that will go against your precious scruples. I can deal with it."

Cas gave Dean a sidelong frown. "That's not it. Something is… not right."

Hearing that made the hair on Dean's neck stand up. Cas didn't mess around. Cas saying something was "not right" was like the captain of the Titanic saying they "might get a bit damp". He was about to ask Cas what kind of "not right" they were talking about, but he could hear the men's footsteps on the gravel, right behind them.

He gave Cas a grim look which Cas mirrored and they stopped walking. They both turned to face the men.

Dean thought he might recognise them from the bar, and he saw Cas remove his hands from his pockets and his posture become defensive.

One of the men was tall and thin, balding and dressed, in Dean's opinion, like a beatnik. He looked old enough to know better than to wear skinny jeans. He had an expression sour enough to curdle milk. Dean supposed anyone in jeans that tight would look unhappy.

The other looked very tanned with dark hair and thankfully was staying away from skinny jeans. He was younger than the other man. He carried an air of arrogance that rubbed Dean the wrong way before he even spoke. Dean had the urge to remove the smirk from the young man's face - with a blunt object.

"Why did the angel cross the road?" the younger man asked, still smirking.

Oh yeah, Dean had a _really_ bad feeling about this. "To kick your ass?" he suggested. It was his first instinct: buy some time and distract them from Cas. The man's eyes flicked to black and he flexed his fingers. Dean felt his throat tighten and he saw Cas frowning confusedly. Dean wanted to smile, knowing the demon dirt bag was eventually going to get wiped out by Cas.

The skinny, older man scowled. "Stop wasting time." he aimed at the young demon and pulled a set of handcuffs etched with symbols from his back pocket.

Cas turned his attention to Dean for a brief second "This one is an angel. Run." The tips of his fingers just managed to graze Dean's temple before the thin, older man clapped the handcuffs on Cas' wrist - and then Dean was suddenly back in his hotel room, feeling like he'd left his stomach behind.

"Son of a BITCH!"

He swung around searching the room "Sam? SAM!"

The front door was wrenched open and Sam came barrelling in from the parking lot brandishing a soda can as a weapon.

"Dean! What the hell?"

"Angels! Angels and demons! And I don't mean like Dan Brown. I mean like with black eyes and sulphur-breath and wings and halos and the zapping without a warning. I think they came to get Cas. I mean, I _know_ they did, 'cause they cuffed him."

"Dean, slow down. I'm having trouble following. Demons _and_ angels? Together?"

"Yes! That's what I'm saying!"

"This isn't good."

"You're telling me."

Sam had them packed in five minutes. They couldn't stay in the hotel in case Team Douchebag knew where it was. Dean had stuffed his pockets and holsters full of every demon-fighting weapon or defence he could carry. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to fight angels, but Dean would find a way. If they tried to send Cas back to be "deprogrammed" again there was going to be Winchester-shaped hell to pay.


	3. Ring of Fire

Castiel knew he was in for a rough time as soon as he became conscious. He wasn't in the empty whiteness of heaven's 'rehabilitation' rooms as he'd expected. Or even heaven's 'green room'. He surmised that his abduction was for demonic purposes rather than heaven's tactical use. He appeared to be cuffed to a chair, in an empty room, in a newly built house. It smelled of paint, plaster and new carpet. He could tell he'd been unconscious for a while because it was light outside the grimy windows. It was disturbingly quiet. There was no sound of life outside the house. No traffic, no birds, no dogs. And he was surrounded by a ring of holy fire. He felt slightly unbalanced and wondered if he had been in the ring of fire for too long.

They might have been watching him because the older man came in grinning smugly. "Do you know what you are Castiel?"

"Inconvenienced?" he hazarded a guess. Dean was starting to rub off on him. The thought made him half-smile.

The older man scowled.

"Finally the anathema will redeem itself. You, broken angel, are a unique ingredient. The grace of a disobedient angel. An angel with free will. Your grace will power a new weapon. Able to work on all our enemies, indiscriminately. Angel, demon… human."

Oh, this was going to be unpleasant. Castiel didn't think they were going to just ask for him to hand over his grace. In his experience these sorts of things generally involved pompous, raving fanatics (check) and some form of unwilling sacrifice.

"And of course, your death is just a pleasant side effect of the process." (and check) Of _course_ it was. Castiel hung his head and smiled. He had died before. It was momentarily disagreeable, but most of all he would regret leaving Dean behind. Dean, who he knew better than any other being on the planet. Dean, the only person who spoke to him like a friend. (A true compliment, for Dean didn't really cultivate friendships.) Dean, who didn't know his own worth. Dean who would probably kill himself trying to stop these people, without Cas there to sacrifice himself in Dean's place. The desperate litany of 'Dean, Dean, Dean' did not show in his impassive expression.

"I have it on good authority, that I have previously exploded like a water balloon full of chunky soup," Cas recounted calmly.

"You needn't look so unmoved. I assure you this will be _quite_ excruciating."

"In my experience, the amount of suffering is inversely proportionate to the amount of explanation required."

At this, the tall skinny man watched Castiel with unhappy, compressed lips. Castiel watched him back.

-oOo-

"Cas knew that guy was an angel. That's why it felt wrong. That and an angel with a demon is just _wrong._ "

Dean's hands were wringing at the steering wheel, gripping and releasing. "They angel-napped him."

Dean was driving like a demon himself, with no clear destination in mind. Sam thought this was why you couldn't predict what Dean was going to do. Most of the time Dean himself didn't know.

"We probably need to assume the worst, Dean. I mean, they should know by now that they can't 're-educate' Cas into a weapon or tool for their own use. He's too independent now. He's chosen a side. The fact that he's made _choices_ at all…"

"I know, Sam, I know. That makes me responsible for this crap. I put that 'choice' and 'free will' stuff in his empty angel head."

"Dean…"

Dean's mouth pressed into a very tight line. He knew what Sam was going to say.

" _He_ chose, Dean. You just made him think about it. You didn't _make_ him do anything."

"Stow it. The choice he made…" Dean's frown grew darker, "he's an outcast now. Neither side trusts him. Either way, he's a threat or he's of use to somebody. We just need to find out why."

They were getting close to the border of the county when they passed a sign for a local museum. Dean made a sudden, almost too late, turn towards the museum. Sam braced himself against the dashboard as momentum tried to mash him against the door. Outside, gravel sprayed in a wide arc.

"What the hell, Dean! A warning next time!"

"You can iron out your petticoats later, princess." Dean was still scowling straight ahead.

Sam was directing an equally fierce scowl at the side of his oblivious head.

Less than ten minutes later they were parked outside the small museum of science.

-oOo-

"Really, Dean? A museum of science? I never pegged it for your kind of thing."

"Yeah well… what's the opposite of religion?"

"Atheism."

"No, you gigantic freak. Science!"

"If you say so, but I'm still pretty sure its atheism."

"Well, think of it as neutral turf. Neither side is likely to get a foothold here. Kind of like Switzerland."

"Actually Dean, if you read some history books…" Sam's history lesson evaporated under Dean's furious glare.

"Unless that story ends in 'And that's how we'll find Cas', I don't want to hear it."

Sam's silence was an admission of defeat. "Sorry. I'll call Bobby. After that … I don't know."

Dean nodded and went back to the trunk of the car to look for inspiration in a sawn-off. He'd clean and oil it. His hands needed to be busy while his mind tried to come up with a plan. While he cracked open the shotgun he let his mind worry at the problem. They needed an angel expert. Normally that would be Cas, Dean thought, grimacing. Focus. So an angel expert. And a Demon expert. He had an idea. A bad idea and this was the perfect place for it. Sam would definitely not like it, but it was all he had right now and Cas probably couldn't afford to wait for Dean to come up with a better one.

Sam pitched a fit suitable for a four year old, coming off a sugar-high.

"Sam, its all we've got! Bobby had nothing. By the time he comes up with something that might be useful, it'll be too late!" Dean was already at the voice-raising stage.

"I don't like it. I really, _really_ don't like it. Its asking for trouble. We could start a war!" Sam slapped the table top to emphasise the danger of what Dean was suggesting. Dean had graduated to arm waving.

"In case you hadn't noticed, trouble came looking for us, and war is always in the wings, waiting for her cue! Anything could be happening to Cas right now. If it was us, he'd come get us."

Sam was silent.

"Sam! He'd come get us!" Dean's raised voice rang in the silence.

"You." Sam said quietly, and waited for it to sink in, "He'd come get _you._ "

Dean's anger seemed to run out, leaving him deflated. "That's not true. He'd save you too."

"Yeah, because _you_ care. Not because _he_ does."

Dean was dazed by Sam's statement. "What… so we leave him? Just because I'm his favourite Winchester?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Damn right, that's not what you're saying. You can pull the Jan Brady crap later. Right now - you pray like a sonofabitch. And not like I do it. You do it properly. Kneeling, pressed palms, the whole bit. I want this to work."

"Wait! Dean! Where are you going?"

"To find a cross roads."


	4. Angel/Demon Tag Team

"The word on the floor is that you're peddling your tarnished little soul. _Again._ "

Crowley's roguish British voice sounded exasperated and a tiny bit intrigued. It gave Dean hope that this might just work.

"The very idea was so perplexing that … well, here I am." He took his hands from his suit pockets to gesture at the dark crossroad. "Frankly, I don't think there is a bargepole long enough for anyone to even consider poking your soul with."

"Enough with poking my soul. It sounds _wrong_. I'm not _actually_ selling it. That was just to get you up here."

Crowley smiled genially. "Fine. Here I am. To business then." He rubbed his hands together. "What do you want? And how does it benefit _me?_ "

-oOo-

Something wasn't right. Castiel was feeling weaker and his balance felt worse. His wrists ached behind his back from the handcuffs, which he couldn't break. He had stayed alert for any opportunity of escape, but while he was in the ring of fire, and so weak, there was none.

The thin, older angel noticed Castiel's fidgeting. "I shouldn't bother if I were you. The cuffs are fashioned from an angel blade. You are powerless in them." That explained his weakness and the aching. Cas felt a niggling desire to annoy him in return. "You consider me anathema, yet what are you, who works with a demon to destroy a fellow angel? What is your name brother?"

The skinny angel sneered, but didn't answer.

Cas smiled. "I shall name you … Peskiel."

'Peskiel' continued to sneer, but Cas thought he detected annoyance in the eyes. If there was one thing he'd learned from Dean, it was how to be frustrating and contrary. And to never give in. Castiel's hope rose a little. He had learned two things then.

-oOo-

Dean rushed through the museum door, Crowley sauntering in many seconds later, much to Dean's annoyance. It was Cas' time they were wasting.

Sam and Balthazar both sat on the same bench in the foyer with their hands folded in their laps, in the universal manner of strangers resigned to waiting awkwardly whilst making small talk. Sam stood, looking relieved, the moment Dean came through the door. Balthazar stood abruptly the moment Crowley entered.

"Well, now we can start the party," Crowley said, clapping his hands together. "I like you boys. I really do. Sam, doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons. Dean, almost doing the right things, for all the wrong reasons. Together you almost make a set. But this - this even _I_ didn't see coming."

When he felt he could get a word in Balthazar added "Yes. The abomination is right. You are quite ineffable. Although I have a theory that at least one of you is quite … 'eff-able'", he said raising an eyebrow at Dean. Dean scowled.

Crowley smirked and pointed at Balthazar. "I like you."

Sam thought that maybe there were things _worse_ than starting a war.

-oOo-

"So, let me get this straight: an angel/demon tag team steals your heavenly concubine, and your solution is to draft your own team and join the league?" Crowley took one sip from the whiskey bottle Dean had brought from the car and handed it back grimacing. "Thank you, but I'd rather die of thirst."

"He's not-" Dean paused, "…what you said." Dean put the bottle on the floor and folded his arms. Yes, this was by far one of his worst ideas.

"Yes," Balthazar added, "I also feel duty-bound to… oh, really! I can't do it! You witless poltroon. You're hopeless co-dependents." He shook his head mournfully at Dean

"Save it." Sam informed him "We've already heard it from Zachariah."

"Not _you two_ , you shaved wookiee! I meant your brother…and mine."

Crowley unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort of laughter.

"Regardless", Balthazar continued, "they're right. I can't sense Castiel anywhere. I can't hear him. This would imply the use of some kind of angel-blocking."

Dean looked scared. "We'd _know_ if he was dead… right?"

Balthazar enjoyed leaving Dean in suspense for a few more seconds. "Well, _you_ would, Mr 'Profound Bond'."

Crowley interrupted Dean's embarrassed frowning. "Putting aside the heavenly gossip circle, the angel-blocking thing is possible. I know there were certain … items… that I had been expecting to be delivered to me, that never showed up. And I have not been able to locate the miscreant to _gently_ point out the error of his ways."

It was Crowley's turn to scowl. "It's like he was shielded." He glanced at Balthazar.

Balthazar nodded. "It is possible, that an angel could shield your lackey from you."

"He's more of a goon than a lackey."

"Okay! So the angel and the demon can cloak each other. Can you two focus?" Sam dragged their attention back from their creepy banter. He knew Dean was close to losing his cool, then bad things would happen. Well, _worse_ things.

Balthazar smiled charmingly, "Of course. I do have an idea we might try." He paused to get their full attention. The words 'narcissistic personality disorder' crossed Sam's mind. Dean made impatient 'get on with it' motions with his hands, but didn't interrupt. Crowley folded his arms and leaned against a wall, enjoying the show.

"Normally angelic communication is like -how can I put it so you'll understand? It's like speed of light communication. But Castiel is 'offline'. This time we have to use a kind of childish tin can phone," he looked Dean in the eyes, "and you're the string."

Dean squared his shoulders. "Fine. Lets do it."

"Dean!"

Dean turned away from Balthazar to glare at Sam.

"Got a better idea? Got _any_ ideas? No? Then we do this."

"Wait!" Sam had a few questions before he'd let them use Dean as some kind of angel string. "This is safe, right?"

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Balthazar scoffed "No, _of course_ it's not safe."

"If I might interject?" Crowley waited until all eyes were on him. This took a few seconds because Sam and Dean were busy pursing lips and lowering eyebrows at each other in some kind of non-verbal argument.

"The item that went missing has a specific use. It was stolen from a cohort of angels, with enormous depletion of my resources. A sacrifice I gladly made." He smiled coldly at Balthazar who shrugged. It was war. These things happened, people died. "Its purpose is to harness angelic grace and tether it to a weapon, which normally would only be of danger to demons, hence my interest. However, if I am not mistaken," he glanced at Dean, "this angel is not 'average'. It's that whole," Crowley dropped his voice to a gravelly Castiel imitation which offended Dean's ears, "'peace or freedom', free-will schtick he has going. Makes him, quite literally, a loose cannon. Once harnessed, his grace could destroy anyone or anything without limitation."

Dean ran a hand over his weary face. "Just once, I'd like it to be simple," he mumbled.

"Just one more thing," Crowley continued, "Harnessing his kinky grace will kill him."

Dean sighed resignedly, but soon straightened his slumped shoulders.

"No. No it won't. There must be something…" The look he gave Balthazar was imploring.

"Maybe," Balthazar thought, "the begging eyes are what keep Castiel coming back to do his bidding. But," Balthazar told himself, "I am not a soft touch like Cas."

"I am doing this for Castiel, not for you. The ritual -"

"There's _always_ a freaking ritual," Sam growled. "Let me guess? Full moon? Midnight? Warehouse? Blood of innocents?"

" _If_ I might continue?" Balthazar looked momentarily amused. "The ritual will need to be performed tonight, during the new moon, a time of utter darkness. If we can substitute another soul for his at the right moment in the proceedings, he can be saved and the weapon will remain inert." He looked at Dean "A human soul."

"Great-"

"What happens to the human?" Sam interrupted, holding up a demanding 'stop now' hand in front of Dean's face, before he could agree to more lunacy.

"Well, he…or she," Balthazar smiled, "potentially dies in Castiel's place."

"Potentially?" Dean's eyebrows rose with hope. "Good enough odds for me. How do we find him?"

Sam sighed loudly and hung his shaggy head in despair.

"Ah, that's where you come in, little string. When was the last time you had a nap?" Dean looked puzzled.

"Does it matter? Cas is about to have a grace-ectomy and you want me to _nap?_ "

Balthazar waited a few moments until Dean's face slowly lit up with understanding. He grinned and gave Balthazar a huge thump between the shoulder blades. A second later Dean was shaking his stinging hand. Slapping the angel's back was like slapping a marble statue. The momentary pain failed to remove the grin from his face.

"They've got angel-to-angel communications jammed, but not human-to-angel or angel-to-human!"

"Give the boy a prize," Crowley intoned sarcastically.

Dean was already taking his jacket off and looking for a place to lie down.

Sam felt like he was watching a movie he'd seen a hundred times already. This was vintage Dean. Always playing the long odds.


	5. An Awful Plan

The young demon had entered the room and doused the circle of fire. He was confident the angel couldn't do a thing with the cuffs on. He came towards Cas with a sharp knife and a bowl. He pushed up the angel's sleeve and made an unnecessarily long and deep incision on the inside of Cas' elbow and held the bowl to it, watching the blood drip in with a satisfied smile. This had been easier than he had imagined. This angel had no fight in him. "That's what happens when you give them choice," he thought, "indecision."

He waved the bowl under Castiel's nose with a grin of triumph. "For calibration. Then you're dead and the weapon comes alive."

Cas had so little energy left. He felt a little better when the circle was brought down, but the cuffs were slowly draining him. He said, more to himself than the demon, "I am not dead yet."

The young demon snorted as he relit the circle and slammed the door as he left. The opportunity for action was gone.

-oOo-

Dean lay on his back on the floor and wadded up his jacket under his head. "So how do we do this? I just go to sleep?"

"No, you must concentrate on reaching Castiel as you fall asleep."

"Okay…not sure how to do that. But okay."

Sam stepped into his line of vision, his ridiculous hair haloed by the overhead lights.

"It's like praying, Dean. Just like when you pray to Cas."

Dean fidgeted uncomfortably. "Okay… here goes." He tried keeping his hands by his sides but that felt uncomfortable. He tried tucking his hands in his pockets, but that seemed wrong. He finally settled for curling on his side with his hands tucked under his armpits to keep them warm. Sam couldn't help thinking how defensive Dean looked curled up in a position that would make most people look helpless.

They all watched expectantly until Dean opened an eye.

"I'm not saying this shit out loud, so you can all stop staring like creepers."

Sam sighed loudly and sat back on the bench. Crowley took out his phone and started playing a game. At Sam's surprised look, all he had to say for himself was "What? Crossroads demon here. Steve Jobs' ten years were up. You think Apple got so big without help?"

Balthazar kept watching Dean.

-oOo-

"Cas? I know you're still here somewhere. I'm not leaving you behind… If you let them use your grace for some asshole weapon…I'm gonna be really pissed at you…Cas? I know you said 'run', but you know me. I see trouble and I run towards it, not away…Come on Cas, _please_. I'm getting sick of letting you die for me."

"Dean?" Dean whipped around. He was suddenly standing, face to face with Cas."Cas! It worked!" Dean looked in surprise at the sunlight, the wooden pier, the lake and woods. A soft breeze played about them, bringing snatches of bird song.

Cas was still in his usual executive hobo outfit, but he looked washed out. Dean didn't know whether to say anything about it.

"Are you okay?"

Cas just stared. "You were supposed to _run_ , Dean." Dean changed the subject.

"What's with the lake, anyway?"

"You always seem happy and calm here. If you prefer-"

Dean remembered some less dignified dreams Anna had once caught him in. "No, no! I like the lake. Where the hell are you, Cas?"

"I'm not sure." He held out his wrists and Dean noticed they were cuffed. The dream cuffs were giving off steam-like wisps and curls of shadow. "I think these are… affecting me." Blood stained the hem of one of Cas' sleeves. As Dean reached towards the cuffs, Cas pulled away. "I wouldn't, Dean."

Dean hesitated before admitting, "We have a plan. Balthazar, Crowley, Sam and me."

Cas' looked startled. " _Crowley?_ Is that advisable, Dean?" His tone implied that it was a rhetorical question and clearly _not_ advisable, then Cas seemed to start fading at the edges.

"Whoa! Where do you think you're going?" Dean clutched at Cas' shoulder.

Cas frowned. "I was not going anywhere… I am weary. These cuffs…I don't have long before…"

"Yeah, I know."

Suddenly Balthazar was there with a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Well, this is all very touching, but time's a-wasting. Let's not dawdle exchanging vows."

Cas didn't even have time to look startled before Balthazar had zapped a disoriented Dean into the new-smelling house, almost on top of the ring of holy fire. "Whoops. A little close for comfort," he commented and was gone again leaving Dean behind.

Dean didn't hesitate to stumble through the fire to get to Cas in the chair. It might be holy fire, but Dean figured he was as far from holy as a non-demon could get.

"Dean." Cas smiled. "This is an awful plan."

Dean grinned back. "Well, I'm not gonna jinx it by pointing out it's working.'"

"Then I shall withhold my refrain of 'I told you so' until necessary."

Balthazar suddenly re-appeared bringing with him Crowley and Sam. "Aren't you two done with the foreplay yet?"

Dean prudently ignored him in favour of finding a weak spot in Cas' chair or cuffs.

Sam had brought Dean's jacket and began swinging it at the ground to beat out the ring of holy fire, which made Dean wince, but he made no comment. What's the sacrifice of a leather jacket between friends?

Crowley stepped neatly over the remaining holy fire and walked around Cas observing the cuffs. "Crude but effective. Much like you, Winchester. Well, the first part anyway." He stepped back out of the circle, no longer interested. Dean barely heard him.

"Cas, I'm going to tip you on your side, then try to break this chair." Cas nodded and Dean lay Cas on his side, chair and all. He chose a joint that looked like a weak point and stomped at it, putting all his weight behind it.

"Excuse me." Balthazar had somehow materialised a fire fighting pickaxe. Sam suspected the little science museum had its fire alarms screeching right now. He handed the axe to Dean.

"Um, boys?" Crowley was gesturing at his watch "The time draws nigh."

_That_ was when the door opened and a sour old angel carrying a large sword, and a cocky demon carrying a bowl of blood, stepped into an unexpected scene.

They all stood frozen for a moment.

A low growl of "I _told_ you so," was heard from the vicinity of the floor.

Dean was the first to move, swinging the axe in a high arc that went down through the back legs of the chair and spat chips from the tiled floor. Crowley had immediately zeroed in on the young demon who had lost all of his assurance at the sight of Crowley. His face had turned grey, he dropped the bowl and turned to run, but a flick of Crowley's hand had him physically dragged back towards Crowley, against all his efforts.

"That sword cost me several hundred arms and legs, you little runt. And you gave it to the enemy." He turned towards Balthazar. "No offence."

Balthazar had, in the mean time, selected the sour-faced angel as his target. "None taken," he replied.

Balthazar reached towards the axe, which Dean had been about to bring down again to complete the destruction of the chair. It was sucked into Balthazar's hand just in time to deflect a blow from the angel's sword. Dean growled in frustration and started pulling the broken chair apart with his bare hands.

"Enough, Dean!" Cas felt the chair was splintered enough that he could move now. He drew up his knees and managed to draw his cuffed hands under him to the front of his body. Dean grabbed Cas under the arms and hauled him up, but didn't notice Balthazar's battle behind him getting closer until Sam called out, "Dean, move!" Dean dodged aside instantly, used to taking battle directions from Sam. Cas had been facing the right direction to see it coming and ducked.

Despite having Crowley's absolute attention, the young demon had found the presence of mind to start reciting the rite to load Cas' grace into the weapon. He wasn't finding it easy. The guttural sounds were frequently interrupted by roars of pain. Sam gathered, from the glow rising from it, that the angel's sword was the weapon and the cuffs were the means of siphoning the grace into the sword, but they hadn't managed to use the blood yet and that _had_ to count for something. Sam had to admire the demon's persistence in the face of almost certain failure.

They could all feel a change in the atmosphere as the demon continued. Dean could feel all his body hair standing up like he'd rubbed a balloon on his head or stood too close to the TV when it was on.

"Crowley!" shouted Dean "Shut him up! Now!" Either Crowley was unable to, or chose not to. Cas' skin was starting to look a little green, like he wanted to throw up and his knees buckled beneath him.

Sam felt useless and searched the room for something, a weapon, anything. He grabbed a chair leg that was still mostly intact and waited until the young demon was interrupted by a scream as Crowley tortured him without laying a hand on him. Sam swung like a batter at the demon's head. There was a sickening crack of wood hitting solidity and the demon fell to the floor unconscious. Crowley raised a brow. Sam pointed the chair leg at him "Cross me and you're next." Crowley made an amused 'after you' gesture and let Sam pass. He had no need to get involved. He could just as easily take the demon elsewhere for interrogation. Anything else that happened was none of his affair.

Sam wasn't sure he had stopped the demon in time. Cas had fallen to his knees and the symbols on the cuffs were shining with a familiar, blinding, white light. Dean was still in the charred circle with Cas trying to haul him up again. "Oh no, man. Come on. This isn't fair!"

Balthazar and 'Peskiel' were still orbiting each other at the other end of the room. Sam sidled towards them as covertly as a large man carrying a makeshift club could. Balthazar, although he was aware of Sam, wisely ignored his movements. 'Peskiel' had no warning. He was busy parrying Balthazar's jab at him. Sam's swing was aimed at the angel's wrist, causing him to drop the sword, then Sam's curving up-swing came down on the corrupt angel's skull. It felt like he had smacked a bronze statue in the head. The angel did not even stumble. He turned a humourless smile, full of intent, on Sam.

Sam felt his palms start to sweat. "Oh, shit."

The next second, Balthazar's axe came around in a scythe-like motion, that cleanly removed the angel's head. There was a burst of light that made Sam throw his arms in front of his face for a moment, but he was quickly on his knees scrabbling for the angel's sword.

"Dean!" Sam tossed the sword towards him.

"Hurry, we're almost out of time!" Balthazar urged.

Cas looked so pale and still that it was really unnecessary for Dean, kneeling beside him, to lay a hand on his wrists and say "Don't move, okay?" Touching the cuffs had given him a cold burning sensation, like holding an iceblock for too long. He hated to think of Cas feeling that ache in his wrists for all those hours. He held the sword above the glowing cuffs for aim, then raised it high and slammed it down with all the strength he had.

Cas and Dean were blown in opposite directions by a blazing ring of light and force, that knocked the others standing in the room flat. Cas, who had been lying on the floor, slid into a wall. Dean, who had been standing, hit the opposite wall with a solid thud and fell to the floor.


	6. Totally Inept Humans

Cas intensely disliked being unconscious. It was the waking up and trying to pick up your thoughts where they had left off that he hated. He tried not to use the word 'hate' if he could help it, but in this case he felt justified.

He was on an uncomfortable cot, his body hurt all over and he felt _thirsty_. He tried to sit up in the narrow cot. He recognised Bobby Singer's panic room. It smelled of rusted iron and looked as bare and grim as he remembered.

"Ah, you're awake." Balthazar gave him a hand out of the cot.

On another cot next to his was Dean, eyes closed and very still, but Cas could detect the rise and fall of breathing. Balthazar moved out of his way as he limped over to check Dean's injuries.

Cas put out his hand, resting it lightly on Dean's damp forehead. Nothing happened. He didn't feel anything. There should have been a flow of warmth, a slight tingling, as he healed Dean but nothing happened. He looked at Balthazar in shock.

"I can't heal him. Nothing is happening."

"Hm. Yes. I rather suspected. You should sit."

Cas sat back down on his cot heavily and waited for an explanation.

"I have already healed you and Dean… as much as possible. He needs to recuperate a little for now. But there are things you need to know. Both of you need to know. It might be easier if we wait until you are both awake, so you can do that 'being-brave-for-each-other' thing."

Cas scowled at him.

"Oh, frown all you like. You know what I'm talking about."

A movement from Dean demanded their attention. Cas could not recall moving but he was there, kneeling next to Dean's cot. "Dean? Are you alright?"

Balthazar stayed back and shook his head. He could almost taste the melodrama that would ensue.

Dean's mouth moved but no sounds came out. He stopped, eyes wide, his hands grasping his throat. Cas frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't panic, Dean. Just relax."

Dean tried to speak again.

Balthazar recognised the shape of the words, even without the sounds: "What the fuck?"

Cas turned to Balthazar. "I thought you said you healed him?"

"I said 'as much as possible'."

"Well give him his voice back."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because. You're alive." Balthazar sighed heavily. "He lost his voice to save your life."

"But not my grace?"

"His voice wasn't enough. If he'd tried to save your grace, he'd be dead."

Dean looked shocked.

"As it is, he lost his voice, you lost your grace, but you're both alive. I'd call it a win."

Dean pointed at his throat, then at his watch. Balthazar shrugged. "I don't know. It may be permanent."

Cas' face screwed up in thought. "Then… my grace? Did it …?"

Balthazar finally realised what Cas was trying _not_ to say. "Oh! Oh no, its not in the sword. Congratulations, you are _not_ part of a universal weapon. It just went… 'kablooey'. These…procedures…can be very unpredictable when interrupted."

Balthazar scratched his chin and looked uncomfortable. "I think it's time someone else took over my shift."

He pointed at them both. "Stay." He headed upstairs.

Less than a minute later Sam could be heard bounding down the stairs two at a time.

"Dean! You're okay!" He immediately embraced Dean in one of his patented emotional bear hugs. Dean thrust Sam away and started gesticulating, his mouth moving rapidly, but no sound coming out.

Sam looked confused.

"I think what he is trying to say," Cas translated "is that he is _not_ okay."

Dean pointed at Cas and nodded emphatically.

-oOo-

Sam, Cas and Bobby were in the kitchen. Bobby had administered his solution to all ills: beer. He was prepared to admit that their current situation might be serious enough to warrant scotch. Balthazar had left to make sure heaven had been running smoothly without him, and Crowley was off extracting information from his minion in ways that were not acceptable in polite company. First Dean had checked that his precious Impala had made it back home with them, which Sam assured him it had. Then Dean had brushed Sam, Bobby and Castiel aside, taken his beer and stormed into the yard like a truculent teen.

Sam had looked hurt and Bobby exasperated, but Cas couldn't find it in himself to be angry or upset at Dean. He wasn't sure how Dean could continue a life of hunting without a voice. Dean's life had suddenly become incredibly difficult. More so than usual, Cas corrected himself.

Bobby was expressing his concern in the only way he knew how. Grumbling.

"That boy needs to learn to count his blessings. Silent's better'n dead."

"He's kind of the 'make your own luck' type," Sam commented.

"That's just another way of holding himself responsible." Cas explained, and then out of nowhere heard himself saying, "Am I _human_ now?"

Sam and Bobby stared at him in shock. "Maybe," Bobby finally responded.

Suddenly all of the fear and panic Cas had been ignoring and pretending he didn't feel (because he _couldn't_ feel - could he?) erupted to the surface. He felt thoroughly ill. He was breathing too shallow and too fast and adrenalin had made all his joints feel rubbery. This body wasn't behaving as predictably as it used to.

He rushed out the door and leaned over the edge of the porch. He felt his stomach lurch and disgusted himself with his own retching noises. Dean appeared out of the dark with a look of curiosity on his face. Cas met his look with one of misery just as Sam came out to check on him.

"Everything okay?"

Dean gave him a thumbs up and waved him away. Sam turned to go back inside, glancing back at Dean with a brief frown of confusion. Dean ignored him and made a questioning face at Cas, who still looked distressed.

"I'm human now. I _can't_ be human, Dean. I'm _terrible_ at it. You've seen me try to be human before. I'm _completely inept_."

Dean sat on the porch steps and patted the spot beside him, raising his eyebrows at Cas expectantly. Cas sat next to him. Dean handed Cas his beer, took out his phone and started texting. Once he had finished he put his phone back in his pocket and took back his beer. Cas felt his phone go off in his coat pocket and took it out to read Dean's text: "Here's to being completely inept humans."

Dean put an arm around Cas' shoulders and raised his beer in salute.

"Here I am feeling sorry for myself, when your life is going to be much more difficult than mine."

Dean just nodded in agreement and swigged his beer. Cas smiled tiredly. "You're just agreeing?"

Dean shrugged. "It's the hunting you're worried about, isn't it?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas who continued. "You can no longer smart-mouth your way around your enemies. You can't talk your way onto crime scenes. You can't question witnesses. You can't charm your way out of trouble. You can't shout for help or warn anyone. I suppose you can whistle."

Dean raised a finger to his lips and shushed Cas. "And apparently you can shush," Cas added, with a half-hearted smile.

Dean very purposefully put down his beer, stood, and headed back into the dark yard. Cas got up to follow, but Dean turned and held him away with a hand on his shoulder, and shook his head once. Cas could see Dean desperately wanted him to understand, so he nodded and sank back down. He watched Dean disappear into the dark and then listened to the sounds of metal being pounded and glass being shattered. He waited patiently for it to finish.

Sam and Bobby came out to investigate. Bobby came armed.

"Its just Dean, " Cas explained.

"It's a good thing I don't own a china shop," Bobby grumbled, lowering his shotgun. Sam snorted at the idea and stared into the dark, concerned.


	7. Adopt-an-Angel

Dean could see enough by the small sliver of moon to hit his target. He pounded the rusting hulk of an abandoned Ford pickup with an old pipe until the sweat made his eyes sting and his wrists tingled from repeated jarring. It was all he deserved. He had failed. He'd made himself and Cas useless. He'd let Cas down. Cas would probably rather be dead than human. And Cas was right, Dean was useless. Absolutely useless. What good was a hunter who couldn't even make a phone call?

"Dean?" It was Cas. Dean didn't know what to say to him. He threw the pipe aside. It hardly mattered. After all, he couldn't say a thing, could he?

"You've been out here for half an hour. Sam is getting concerned."

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was his own fault. He could trace it all back to his own stupid moves. Arguing with Sam about going out, asking Cas along, walking to the bar so he could drink as much as he wanted. Getting Crowley and Balthazar involved and jumping at their plan. Using the weird sword on the etched cuffs. It was all him. He took his hands out of his pocket and rested them on the roof of the battered pickup and kicked at the tires harder and harder, getting angrier and angrier at himself.

Cas put a hand on his shoulder. "Dean. Stop." He didn't bother pointing out that Dean's actions were pointless. Dean knew.

Cas tried Dean's favourite tactic: a change of subject.

"Bobby says we are to 'draw straws' to see who sleeps on the couch. Sam said to tell you he has already called 'dibs'?" Cas sounded unsure as to whether Sam's message made sense.

Dean huffed in annoyance and turned Cas back towards the house. He made shooing motions.

Cas frowned. "I _refuse_ to return to the house while you remain here." He poked Dean in the chest. Hard. "Don't even think about driving away," He growled, leaning towards Dean as though he wanted to do more than just poke. Dean was creeped out. He had been thinking exactly that. Was he so transparent? He didn't think he could face seeing Cas slowly worn down by humanity one day at a time, losing the naivety and honesty that made him so…Cas. The fierce scowl on Cas' face held a barely contained edge of panic.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I hadn't meant to make you despair. About hunting." Dean shook his head and squeezed Cas' shoulder. The last thing Cas needed was to worry about Dean. He was going to have enough on his plate with this 'being human' thing.

Dean guessed running away was no solution. Cas was his responsibility and he couldn't leave it to Sam or Bobby to prepare Cas for surviving humanity. He felt bad right now. If he ran, he'd feel worse. Poor Cas, he'd only ever dealt with monsters. He had no idea about 'normal'. That was a whole different kind of horror.

As much as losing his voice was going to cramp his hunting style, Dean was aware he still had a lot of human skills and hunting experience, which was more than Cas had to work with right now. Dean would have to do something about that or he'd never have peace of mind.

"Dean… you have cuts …" Cas pressed a finger to Dean's cheek and brought it away with a smear of blood. Dean shrugged it off. He hadn't really been worried about safety while beating the crap out of the old car. He put an arm around Cas' shoulders and steered them to the Impala. He had to show Cas that although he was voiceless, he was still a bad-ass hunter.

He stopped Cas in front of the Impala's trunk, opened it, lifted the fake base and propped it open with a sawn-off. He pulled out a wicked looking serrated hunting knife, designed to do more damage coming out than going in. He placed it carefully on the bumper. He pulled out assorted guns and shotguns including his own favourite pearl handled pistol and propped them against the car or lay them on the ground. He pulled out various stakes, specially designed ammunition, swords, salt, hex bags and bottles of holy water. He even pulled out a goddamned flamethrower. He gestured proudly at the arsenal then jerked his thumb at himself. What he has trying to say was "See this? _This_ is what _I_ bring to the table."

Cas had watched all of this without a word, but still looked uncertain. Dean took Cas' hand and put a shotgun in it. He put some shells in his pocket, put everything else back in its place in the trunk and lowered the false bottom to hide it all. Cas stood there watching and still, as silent as Dean was, holding the shotgun. Dean slammed the trunk closed, walked to the front of the car, reached in and turned the headlights on. He rifled around in the glove compartment and pulled out an old grease-stained rag. He walked to a nearby tree, held the rag against the trunk at chest height, and stabbed it in place with a pocket knife. He walked back to Cas, who was watching, completely absorbed. He took the shotgun from Cas' hand and placed it on the ground. He pointed at Cas' eyes, then at himself. Cas nodded and watched as Dean mimed holding the shotgun to his shoulder, sighting along it, breathing in, then slowly crooking his finger until BAM. He mimed the kick back of a shotgun. He picked up the shotgun and motioned for Cas to come closer. He handed it to Cas and waved towards the tree.

Cas cast a doubtful, sidelong look at Dean and awkwardly hefted the shotgun up to chest height. He focussed on the tree and pointed the shotgun. Dean pulled at the stock of the shotgun and pushed at Cas' shoulder until the shotgun was resting firmly against Cas shoulder. Cas rested his cheek against the wooden stock. Dean pressed his hand between Cas' shoulders encouraging him to lean forward a little and patted Cas' on the chest reminding him to breathe slow and steady, motioned at the tree with his chin. Cas breathed in, held it, and slowly pulled the trigger. There was a sharp 'snick' and Cas was surprised to feel disappointed. He looked at Dean, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

Dean motioned for Cas to watch and loaded the shotgun with the shells from his pocket. All shells in place, he handed it to Cas and pointed at the tree. At the last minute he stopped Cas with a hand to the shoulder, took out his phone and texted intensely for a few seconds. Cas took out his beeping phone and read the message: "NEVER point the business end at anything you don't want shot. -Safety- Understand?" Cas looked earnestly at Dean and nodded. Dean gave a satisfied nod and motioned for him to continue.

Cas remembered everything he had seen Dean do; the stance, the breathing, the aim, the slow squeeze of the trigger, but he was completely unprepared for the sharp crack of the shot and the recoil. He managed to hit the trunk, but was way above the target. Dean patted his shoulder reassuringly and encouraged him to have another shot. This time Cas was ready.

Just like that, he hit the rag target. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze and grinned at him. Cas grinned back.

-oOo-

Dean steered them back to the house. Once Cas had started concentrating, he wasn't easily distracted and had made quick progress. Dean still felt like Cas was exposed and unprotected, but it was a start.

When they got inside Bobby had already gone to bed, and Sam was lying on the couch, under a blanket, watching an old black and white horror movie. He looked relieved and concerned at the same time.

"Hey, Dean. You look like hell...Want the couch? Rock, paper, scissors?"

Dean shook his head, pointed at Cas and at the couch, then at Sam and the floor.

"He already lost, fair and square," Sam grinned.

Dean placed the closed fist of his right hand on his open left palm. Sam grinned and did the same and counted them in.

"One, two, three." They both threw down at the same time and Sam laughed at Dean's throw of scissors. "Oh, Dean, seriously! Again with the scissors!"

Dean would never have admitted it, but he threw scissors on purpose. He wasn't about to sleep on the couch if Cas was stuck with the floor. He sighed loudly. It looked like he was adopting an ex-angel of the Lord. He pulled out his phone and wrote a quick text to Sam. Sam picked up his buzzing phone and read it silently: "Tomorrow we go into town to get Cas supplies." Sam held it out to Cas. Cas read it and smiled.

"Thank you, Dean." Dean threw Cas a spare pillow and blanket and pointed at the floor.

Dean put down his pillow and lay down, wrapping himself in a blanket. He was suddenly aware of his own exhaustion and could hardly be bothered taking his boots off.

Cas followed his example and pulled off his shoes and jacket and lay down nearby, under his own blanket.

"Goodnight Sam. Goodnight Dean."

"Goodnight Cas," Sam responded.

Dean just sighed.

-oOo-

Cas had a hard time getting to sleep. There were so many things to worry about and the house kept making unfamiliar noises. How were they to retrieve Dean's voice? Or Cas' own grace? Was it even possible? Could he survive as a human? Did he want to? Yes. He had learned from the Winchesters that although humans did not have 'powers', their hope, mental flexibility and insurmountable stubbornness could overcome a lot. If nothing else, he felt he could understand Dean, with or without a voice, better than anyone. He considered that statement for a moment. Yes, even Sam. He sighed. This floor was hard, and this human flesh, tender. Eventually his breathing slowed and unconsciousness claimed him.

Dean was glad to hear Cas fall asleep. Sam had fallen asleep almost immediately after the end of the movie and was snoring quietly on the couch. Despite his exhaustion, sleep continued to evade Dean. His mind seemed to work overtime, thinking of all of the things he couldn't say. He wasn't sure how long he had spent repetitively circling around the worries that gnawed at him. Cas had nowhere else to go. He belonged with them now, and they were dangerous to be around. Cas had so much to learn, and quickly. They had to get him an anti-possession tattoo. Cas needed to learn how to use all of the weapons and how to drive the car if he was going to defend himself. They had to get Cas so many supplies. Dean rubbed at his face and groaned inwardly. It seemed like he managed to ruin the lives of anyone he ever came close to. Assuming they actually continued to live. And he'd damn well _die_ ensuring Cas continued to live. It's what Cas would do. Hell, _had_ done.

Dean noticed Cas' breathing had become fast and harsh. Cas' body gave a sudden jerk in the dark and he gasped. Dean knew a nightmare when he heard one. He quietly shushed Cas as soothingly as he could, before reaching for him.

"Dean?" Cas whispered. Dean reached over and patted him on the chest. He kept his hand there and felt Cas relax a little. "I was unprepared for dreaming. It seemed so _real_ … until I woke. I never realised," Cas whispered. Dean gave Cas another pat on the chest and hoped that it comforted him a little.

Cas' hand covering his was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep. Exhausted, Dean slept deeply.


	8. Crossing a Line

Dean slowly woke and felt surprisingly rested for having slept on the floor. The first sight to greet his eyes was a sleeping Cas, blankets tucked all the way to his chin, his mouth slightly open. Somehow his tie had ended up flopped over his head in the night. One night had passed and Cas was still here, and alive. Dean grinned. If he'd had a voice his chuckles probably would have woken Cas. He really shouldn't find it adorable and funny that Cas looked so innocently human. How Cas had managed to sleep with a tie on was beyond him. Cas really had _no_ idea. He sat up and started trying to surreptitiously unknot Cas' tie without waking him.

He could hear Sam clattering in the kitchen. The last thing he needed was Sam walking in, and Dean without a voice to defend his actions or explain himself with. He concentrated on undoing the tie and was finally sliding it off when he looked up to find Cas gazing at him. He froze.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas stated calmly in his rough morning voice. Dean stared back. All that filled Dean's vision were huge, serious, blue eyes. Concentrated. On him. Close. Too close. Cas gently disengaged Dean's stilled hands from his tie and finished removing it without breaking his gaze. Dean scrambled up ungracefully, and hid in the bathroom. Cas' eyes followed him.

-oOo-

Well, that was his dose of 'awkward' done for the day. Dean grimaced at himself in the mirror. He really did look like hell, with flecks of blood on his face where flying glass had grazed him, the circles under the eyes and the stubble. He washed his face and dried it on a threadbare towel.

He'd just been trying to _help_. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing. When he had convinced himself that Cas hadn't seen anything weird in Dean removing his tie, he strolled with false nonchalance into Bobby's kitchen to find Sam and Cas conversing and eating toast.

He abruptly felt left out and stopped at the entrance. He couldn't join in, hell, he couldn't even interrupt. Cas could ask Sam all the questions he wanted, and Sam could answer him without having to play charades or condense it into a text message. Maybe Dean had gotten Cas into this and couldn't help Cas deal with it at all. Dean _sucked_.

Then Cas turned away from his conversation with Sam and saw Dean lurking in the archway. He smiled warmly and offered Dean a slice of toast. Dean accepted the toast and thought maybe he could try to help just a little longer.

"So Dean - getting Cas supplies. You want me along?"

Dean nodded at Sam and munched on his toast.

The trip into town was a silent one. Dean couldn't bear to turn on any music if he couldn't sing along.

-oOo-

Bobby had suggested they find a discount store, where they could get the basics without spending a fortune. It reminded Dean of when he and Sam were teenagers. They hadn't had much money and it had felt like Sam outgrew his shoes every week. Some things hadn't changed. They still never had much money.

When they got to the store Dean had given Sam the signal to keep his eyes open. He didn't want them getting into any trouble when Cas was this vulnerable. Dean walked into the discount store followed by Cas and Sam. He handed Cas a basket and motioned for him to follow. Cas followed Dean to the 'Personal Care' aisle. He grabbed a toothbrush and threw it in Cas' basket. This was followed by toothpaste and a comb. He stopped beside the shaving gear and thought for a moment. He selected some shaving foam for sensitive skin just in case and decided against the super cheap disposable shavers in favour of a slightly higher quality version. He didn't want to be responsible for Cas ending up with a rash the first time he shaved. He threw them in the basket. Cas picked up the items, read the labels with curiosity and dropped them back into the basket. Dean led Cas to the deodorants and picked out a strong sports one. If they were all going to be stuck in the car together, he'd rather be safe than sorry. He sprayed it into the air (to the annoyance of the store clerk), decided it was bearable, and threw it into the basket. Cas pulled it out and put it neatly back on the shelf.

"I don't like it," he explained apologetically. Dean nodded in acceptance and gestured at the shelf, indicating Cas should pick one himself. While Cas sniffed at deodorants, Dean looked around for Sam. He could see Sam's head looming over the electronics aisle. He put his fingers to his lips and gave a piercing whistle that instantly had Sam's head craning in his direction. He waved for Sam to come over.

Cas held out his choice of deodorant for Dean's approval. "I have selected this one." It smelled vaguely of smoke, leather and incense, reminiscent of libraries. Of course, Dean thought, smiling. He pointed to the basket and Cas dropped it in. Sam ambled over with something in his hand.

"I thought Cas might like this." He held out a small, generic MP3 player. Dean looked impressed and nodded.

"We're _not_ filling it with Metallica and AC/DC," Sam added. "We're letting Cas choose his own music."

Dean looked disgusted, but only for a moment because Cas looked so interested at the idea, that he felt guilty.

Dean led them to the shampoo, but then didn't know where to begin. That was really Sam's area of expertise. They could just let Cas use cheap hotel shampoo, but that stuff made your hair feel like steel wool and the nasty, cheap smell really got to Dean in enclosed spaces like the Impala. It was the small things, like having your own shampoo, that made life on the road more bearable. Things like your favourite music and pie and fifteen minutes of Magic Fingers for a quarter. Not that he was _ever_ admitting any of that to Sam.

He really had no idea what kind of shampoo Cas would need. He reached behind Cas' ear and tested the texture of his hair. Belatedly, his brain caught up with what his hand was doing. He realised he'd crossed a line.

It was definitely _not_ fondling. Absolutely not. This was _absolutely_ normal and not overly intimate _at all_. Cas just regarded him calmly and seemed completely unfazed by Dean's proximity. Angel or no, he still appeared to have no concept of personal space. Dean grabbed a shampoo for normal hair and dropped it in the basket and headed for the exit without waiting for the others. Cas picked up the shampoo, smelled it and seemed to find it acceptable, unconcerned by Dean's previous actions.

"Dean!" Sam called out, "He still needs clothes!" He stood watching Dean's retreating back with suspicion. It was typically irresponsible behaviour as far as Sam was concerned, but Dean being mute made it hard to guess the cause of this particular bitch-fit. Dean made a drinking motion at Sam and headed to the counter. He picked a random soda, slapped some coins on the counter and headed outside to drink it.

He warmed his ass against the Impala and picked at the label of the soda. He'd thought _Cas_ was going to have trouble adjusting. He'd thought that he had his own problem _sorted_ , with the texts and the hand signals. He'd been completely unprepared for the fact that being unable to speak was making him _think_ and _feel_ instead _._ And against all logic, it made it _harder_ to lie.

When he lied, he made a facial expression to match. But when he wasn't speaking out loud, it seemed to be much harder to deny things. And if he felt something, it showed on his face. And apparently in his hands.

Damn it, he couldn't spend the rest of his days drafting long explanatory texts. Or trying to mime complicated ideas. Cas was _his_ angel, well ex-angel. Not Sam's, not Bobby's. He was damned if he was going to let Cas suffer through this crappy ordeal if he could communicate in _any_ way  
that he was there for him. He had no other way of reassuring Cas except with touch. Once Cas was up to speed, and confident living in the human world, it would be different, but right now, Cas needed that comfort.

Ah, hell. Sam could ask Dean all the questions he wanted, it's not like Dean could _answer_ them anyway. Having decided to concentrate on what Cas needed and ignore anyone else's opinion, Dean felt a surprising amount better. Dean pushed himself away from the car and headed back in.

They spent another hour and filled another two baskets with basic clothing for Cas. Sam had suggested that he should probably have functional clothing similar to Sam and Dean's. Cas had briefly looked towards Dean, who had deliberately given no indication of agreeing or disagreeing. He wanted Cas to have his own opinions. Cas decided Sam's suggestion was acceptable.

Dean had texted the observation that maybe they should buy Cas clothes one size smaller than the accountant outfit he currently wore, as it seemed not to fit too well. Cas looked mildly offended. But when they had Cas try on some jeans, it turned out that Dean was right. Lastly they bought Cas a plain duffle bag to put it all in.

On the way to the check out, Sam stopped them at a rack of sunglasses. He picked out a mirrored pair and handed them to Cas, calling to Dean, "Hey, what about these?" Cas put them on without comment.

Once he had them on, it was like he was wearing a mask or had drawn a blind over his thoughts. Dean had no idea what was going on behind there, and he didn't like it. He could see his own concerned face reflected back at him in the lenses. He didn't like that either. After a moment Cas quietly removed them and put them back on the rack. He hesitated, picking another pair with plain black frames and semi-dark lenses. Dean took them from his hand, slid them onto Cas' nose and hooked them behind his ears. They both smiled. That was better. Sam just shook his head. Looked like it wouldn't matter that Dean was mute after all. Sam hoped he was wrong about what he _thought_ was happening because things were complicated enough already. It wasn't the kind of thing he would ever get Dean to admit anyway.


	9. Reunion of the Resurrection Club

On the way back to Bobby's, retail exhaustion hit Cas hard. The only thing keeping him upright was his seatbelt. Sam looked over to confirm he was asleep and decided now was his best opportunity for asking Dean a whole lot of questions.

"Dean, what's with you? You're acting… I dunno. Weird. Weirder. Weirder than you with no voice." Dean just shrugged.

"Is it because you feel guilty? 'Cause you know, you saved his life, even if it's a different kind of life now."

There was a telltale clench of Dean's jaw that made Sam feel justified.

"He's your friend, Dean. I don't think he blames you."

Dean's brows drew together in a thunderous way that usually meant he was going to slam on the brakes or throw punches. Or both. To Sam's surprise he did neither. Instead Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror, turned to Sam with a finger to his lips and shushed him. Sam blinked. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Dean jerking his thumb towards Cas' sleeping form in the back seat, and shushing him again. Sam got the hint and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

In a bad mood, Sam got out of the car and left Dean to deal with unconscious Cas and his supplies. Sam was greeted on the porch by an equally grumpy Bobby.

"Where the hell have you boys been? That holy ass-hat has been waiting in my parlour for two hours."

Sam blew out a loud sigh. He had an idea who it would be.

-oOo-

Dean gave Cas' shoulder a gentle nudge. Before he realised what he was doing, he was trying to say "Wake up, sleepy head," except nothing came out. Cas had curled away a little from the nudge, which made Dean smile. Sleeping, Cas looked open and defenceless. Dean felt a burning ache in his chest that he couldn't quite name, but it felt very similar to grief. That was it. The potential for pain and loss. He was afraid of something happening to Cas. Something permanent. Something worse than being human.

He looked over his shoulder, confirming that Sam had disappeared into the house. Then he leaned into the back seat gave Cas a warm, prolonged kiss to the forehead. When he finally pulled away, Cas was looking at him drowsy and slightly confused, and the ache in Dean's chest hadn't diminished at all. Cas looked around discovering they were back at Bobby's. Dean pointed towards the house and motioned for Cas to come in. Cas fidgeted with the zip of his new hoodie, pink-cheeked.

"I'd like to stay outside a while… by myself."

Dean hesitated. A sudden wave of panic hit him. Had he just done something _really_ stupid? It was too late to take it back and he had no voice to deny it with. Had he freaked Cas out, on top of everything else Cas had to adjust to?

"Dean, I just need a few moments of quiet."

Dean couldn't cling to him like some kind of needy child. That wouldn't be fair to Cas. That would be lame and completely uncool. He should try to behave like an adult, not a broody mother hen. He was just protective… because his best friend, Cas, was vulnerable right now _…_ That's all… right? He nodded at Cas and turned to go inside.

-oOo-

Inside he came upon what looked like a committee meeting of Sam, Bobby and someone else. The person turned to face Dean. Dean clamped his hand over his eyes and wished they could hear him groaning.

"Hey there, Deano. Did ya miss me?" Gabriel's eyes twinkled mostly with humour, but also a small fraction of antagonism.

"Looks like only the good die young, huh? 'Cause look at us," Gabriel spread his hands, "we're still here."

Dean's hands went to his sides, clenched and unclenched. He wanted so badly to say something, but knew he couldn't, so he just ground his teeth. Sam noticed, and intervened.

"Actually we _have_ died. More than once. So you might want to try another argument."

"Yeah, well, me too. So… point taken. We should start a club. Anywho, now that I'm back in action, I had to come see for myself."

"Balthazar told you about Castiel?"

"…Sort of."

Sam started an inquisition about what Gabriel could or couldn't do to help Cas, with Gabriel denying any ability to change the current state of affairs. Questions were asked about how Gabriel's return was possible and who would gain from it. Voices were raised.

Dean turned his back on them and went to the window. He had nothing to say to Gabriel. He had nothing to say to anyone. He and Gabriel would always annoy the crap out of each other and that was that. He twitched aside the corner of the greying lace curtain to check on Cas. He saw the ex-angel had removed his bag from the car and was sitting on the porch steps, his elbows on his knees, staring at his feet. He looked like the poster boy for dejection. Dean realised Cas hadn't really done much talking himself, since Dean had lost his voice. Dean dropped the curtain back in place and headed outside. Leaving Sam and Gabriel arguing, with Bobby calling them both 'idjits' indiscriminately.

He sat down next to Cas and nudged him with his shoulder. Cas sighed. Dean pointed to Cas, made an action with his hand, like a hand puppet, and pointed to himself. His instructions were clear: Talk to me.

Cas looked at him, or into him, Dean wasn't sure which. Cas sighed again.

"I used to think humans were wilfully complicated. But I never realised how much you don't know. Faith is easy to talk about when you're privy to the big picture. When you know everything that is happening and why. It all seems …"

Dean put a hand on his back to urge him to go on.

"I can't hear anything, Dean, or sense anything now. I don't know what's going on any more. I never realised the uncertainty, the indecision, you all labour under. How do you live with it? The not knowing?"

Dean shrugged because he really didn't know. He stroked Cas' back and pulled out his phone. He owed it to Cas to _try_ to explain how to cope with being human. He texted: "You hope you can tell right from wrong and, on a good day, you get to kill a whore." *

Cas gave a short, unexpectedly loud, laugh and squeezed Dean's knee. Cas definitely remembered their time with the Sacrament Lutheran Militia. "Thank you. I am very fortunate to have you and Sam and Bobby. I had forgotten how resilient and incorrigible you all are." Making Cas laugh gave Dean a sense of achievement he normally only felt after repairing his Impala. It felt rewarding.

They were interrupted by the sound of a knuckle tapping on glass. They turned to see Gabriel in the window waggling his eyebrows and shaking a finger at them.

Cas turned to Dean with a look of shock. "Was that…?"

Dean nodded grimacing. They both stood and as Dean turned to go inside, Cas stopped him with a hand on his arm. Dean looked at him questioningly.

"I miss your voice."

Dean gave him a slow, honest smile. It was good to hear. No-one else seemed to miss it.

"Even if it _mostly_ said things I didn't want to hear," Cas continued, and smiled back roguishly.

Dean laughed silently.

He felt the need to fight so many urges at that moment. The urge to slap Cas on the ass, to laugh, to kiss him and to tell him to never smile at anyone else like that. He didn't want to stop and think about any of that or he was pretty sure he would have the biggest freak out ever seen, since Sammy's Nair incident. It didn't _matter_ what he felt, because he was supposed to be there to help Cas cope with his new life, not make things more complicated for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Kill a whore" is a reference to season 5, episode 17, _"99 Problems"_ The Whore of Babylon, who turned out to be a bitch of epic proportions.  
> Watch it again. You know you wanna. ;)


	10. Its Not Easy Being Dean

Sam, Bobby and Gabriel seemed to be waiting for them.

"Gabriel." Castiel acknowledged him warily. His interactions with Gabriel in the past hadn't been the most cordial, although the hostility had not been personal.

"Castiel." Gabriel smiled and bowed mockingly. Bobby huffed in annoyance at that. Cas was polite, which was more than he could say for this ass-hat. In Bobby's book, Cas was 'one of the boys' now.

"How is this possible, Gabriel?" Gabriel's return gave Castiel a small amount of hope.

Gabriel shrugged. "Apparently they're an angel short upstairs… and there's no-one around with the skills to fill the vacancy. So here I am. Nothing would have started a power struggle faster than a vacuum in the hierarchy." It's possible his eyes held the tiniest little smidgeon of respect, but he'd deny it if it was pointed out.

Castiel looked disbelieving. Dean wasn't sure if Cas doubted his own importance in Heaven, or if he mistrusted Gabriel.

Gabriel turned to Dean. "Sam here has badgered me into agreeing to do some investigating. I promise nothing, but I'll see if there's anything we can improve. It might take a few days. Now, Dean, do I have to give you the speech about honour and chastity?"

Dean scowled, texted briefly then held his phone out to Gabriel: "The strippers?"

Gabriel snorted. "Hilarious. But no. I mean _try_ not to compromise Cas' virtue while I'm away."

"Gabriel," Cas warned in his pre-smiting tone "apologise to Dean. He has been working very hard to help me feel at home, despite his own hardship."

Gabriel eyed Cas calculatingly. Cas was glaring at him, his hands curled into tight fists. It was a good thing Cas was unable to smite anyone right now. Then he looked at Dean. Dean was an enigma. He was churning with so many confused and tangled emotions that Gabriel couldn't identify them at all. Concerned? Confused? Gabriel relaxed. "Fine. I guess I have nothing to worry about. Repression, thy name is Winchester."

"Well you won't be the only one doin' some diggin'," Bobby added, trying to get things back on track. "I know a guy who's got a specialised collection, but he's a long ways from here. I should probably get in contact with him."

Gabriel smirked. "Well allow me!"

He snapped his fingers and Bobby was gone.

Sam gaped. "Did you just…?"

"Yup." And then Gabriel was gone too.

No one heard Dean's silent growl of disapproval.

-oOo-

Bobby had called to say he would be back in a week, (sooner if he found a good lead in his friend's library of rare mythology-based works) and to _stay out_ of his best scotch.

Dean was trying to introduce a jean and t-shirt-clad Cas to the joy of classic action movies.

Sam was in the kitchen making up a batch of popcorn from scratch, in one of Bobby's old pots. He didn't like it to have too much butter. If Dean had had his voice he would have fought Sam tooth and nail on it. How the hell is the salt supposed to stick on, if you don't load it up with butter? But seeing as he had no voice, he couldn't nag Sam into making popcorn the way he wanted. Cas would never know what he was missing. Dean sighed dramatically. It was upsetting that he might never speak the words 'bacon double cheese burger' again.

Cas dragged his eyes away from the fascinating scene of John McClane walking barefoot over broken glass.*

"Is something wrong, Dean?"

Dean pointed at his own throat, indicating it was just general frustration he was expressing. Cas watched him for a few more seconds than was necessary. Dean had always been honest with Castiel; as honest as he was willing to be with anyone, including his brother and himself.

"Do you think it's possible I will ever regain my grace? Become what I was?"

Dean made no move to answer him. Eventually he gave a small shrug. He thought it was unlikely, but it was too soon to be taking Cas' hope away, and with Gabriel coming back from… wherever dead angels go… anything was possible.

Cas turned back to watching Hans Gruber stepping out of an elevator in the Nakatomi building, but only for a moment. His eyes watched the pictures, but in his mind were other images. He turned back to Dean, his shoulders stiff with tension under the grey t-shirt they had purchased earlier that day.

"Dean…"

Dean raised his eyebrows and waited. Suddenly it all came out of Cas in a desperate rush.

"I want to learn things. In case I don't- I want to learn to drive. To fix cars. To use the laptop. I need to practise fighting, as a human. If I can't- … I want to hunt with you and Sam. I want to help. In case I can't- I _need_ to stay _busy_ , Dean." Cas' voice was low but urgent.

Dean was so blown away by Cas' desperation and pain, that he tried to speak before he remembered he _couldn't_. That was starting to happen a lot, and it was pissing him off. Cas couldn't even say the thing he feared out loud and Dean had been whining about burgers. It was good that no one could read his thoughts, because he was a selfish dick. So he patted Cas' arm, looked into his eyes reassuringly and nodded because he wouldn't have it any other way. Of course Cas would work with him and Sam. As far as Dean was concerned there was no other possibility.

Sam came in with a large wooden bowl of popcorn. He held it out to Dean with a smirk. Dean took a few kernels, tasted them, made a face and pushed the bowl away. It was like eating Styrofoam packing peanuts. Cas watched them with interest.

Sam held the bowl out to Cas. "Try it, Cas. Don't let Dean fool you. It's actually good."

Cas took a handful and ate the kernels one at a time, with concentration and curiosity. He found the texture resilient, almost rubbery, but the flavour was insipid. It wasn't exciting enough to ask for more. He was pleased to find he naturally agreed with Dean on this.

Sam slumped into Bobby's favourite armchair with his legs stretched out in front of him and the huge bowl resting on his chest. He started chowing down on it by the handful.

Dean took his car keys out of his pocket and looked at them lying in his hand. Cas was family now. Dean had let Sam drive his precious baby before. Dean desperately wanted to be the one to teach Cas to drive but, realistically, Cas needed verbal instructions. Maybe Sam could teach Cas. Dean felt a flare of helpless anger. Damn it! _His_ car! _His_ angel. And he couldn't do a goddamned thing. He was going to have to trust Sam with this.

He took Cas' hand, now empty of popcorn, and placed the keys in it. Cas stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. Dean gave him a small smile and gestured towards Sam, who was still stuffing oversized handfuls of the heinously naked popcorn into his mouth.

"Are you sure?" Cas couldn't quite believe it. Dean was as protective about his car as he was about any member of his family. It had died and been revived as many times as either of the Winchesters. Cas knew this was an astounding gesture. Dean squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Dean." Cas held onto Dean's hand a moment longer. It was valuable and reassuring to him that Dean understood enough of his fear to try to help him solve it. The corner of Dean's mouth turned up in mischief. He tapped Cas' jean-covered leg and pointed at Sam.

Cas held up Dean's car keys at Sam with an impish smile. "Sam? Will you teach me to drive?" Dean caught his breath. He really wouldn't mind having that smile directed his way, and that was _never_ coming out, whether he got his voice back or not. He locked the thought away in a dark corner. Also, Cas teasing Sam was _awesome_.

Sam looked at the keys, then looked at Dean, surprised. Dean stared back and _dared_ him to say a word. Taut bands of stress clamped around Dean's  
ribs. His angel had _freaked out_ about staying human, and Dean was going to have to let _someone else_ teach Cas to drive in his baby. He really, _really_ felt like whomping something about now. Sam must have sensed it. He swallowed down his popcorn.

"Uh… sure, Cas. If it's okay with Dean… then yeah."

Cas turned to Dean with a brilliant grin that Dean couldn't help but reflect back. The frustration dissolved from his chest, the need to punch something forgotten. The thoughts escaped their dark corner, kicked up their heels, and frolicked freely and playfully in the sunny meadows of Dean's recalcitrant mind. Dean didn't have enough previous experience with them to recognise them as happiness.

-oOo-

When Dean went to the refrigerator to grab a beer, Sam followed him to the kitchen.

"Dean, are you _sure_?"

Dean paused to open the bottle and nodded once, firmly. He gave Sam a friendly punch on the shoulder and headed back to the couch, to watch a helicopter exploding on a rooftop.

Sam placed the empty popcorn bowl in the sink and rested against the bench top.

Something really was up with Dean. He'd have to keep an eye on it, because if it was what he _thought_ it was, then Dean was probably going to refuse to face it, have a huge freak out, and make a run for it. And Sam was going to have to pick up the Cas-shaped pieces. Actually, Sam was surprised it hadn't happened _already_. Maybe he was reading too much into this…

-oOo-

With Bobby away, Sam grabbed the opportunity to sleep on the old man's bed, rather than cram himself onto the too short couch. Dean insisted Cas take the couch, as much as a mute man _can_ insist.

In the morning, he woke to find Cas' arm hanging down from the couch, his warm palm pressed to Dean's chest. No way that was an accident. Dean lay watching Cas' hand rise and fall with each breath. He found it comforting. Maybe Cas did too. Like that thing with hot water bottles and ticking clocks, that made puppies sleep better. He and Cas had this in common: They both had to deal with this _thing_ that had happened to them.

He felt Cas' fingers curl and heard his breathing change. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"Dean? Dean…" Cas whispered. "Is it too early for a driving lesson?"

Dean felt the corners of his mouth turning into an unstoppable smile, regardless of the fact he was supposed to be asleep. It occurred to Dean that despite their difficulties, he was kind of enjoying himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie being watched is Die Hard. 1988, starring Bruce Willis.  
> Watch it. It's classic.


	11. Dean Keeps Something Good

Dean was sitting on the front steps watching Sam and Cas in his precious baby. Sam had talked to Cas for a few minutes then the car had roared to life. She started to roll forward, then jerked forward and fell silent with a hiccup. Dean flinched. He couldn't take it. He wanted to march over there and yank those two out of his car. He remembered Cas' heartfelt thank you and his joyous smile when he'd given him the keys. He groaned long and silently. He had to turn around and walk away. The _sacrifices_ he made…

He spent the next half hour trying to distract himself in the kitchen drafting a list, in his scrawly hand writing, of the things they still had to do for Cas. Things like making him a fake driver's license, getting him a credit card. Teaching him to do laundry. Things that would help give Cas peace of mind, as they made him belong. He also spent a lot of that time staring out the window, wondering what he would do if he was going to be … like _this_ … for the rest of his life.

When Sam and Cas came back in, Dean was ready with a can of drink for each of them. They looked tired but they weren't arguing, which was a good sign. Sam propped himself on the kitchen table and opened his can.

"Cas did really well for the first lesson. And your car is _fine_." Sam picked up Dean's list and read it, in between gulps from the can.

"Maybe I should get started on some of these for Cas. There's a guy Bobby knows who could get us the ID."

Cas held the keys out to Dean, who gave Cas' hand a squeeze as he took them. Cas' eyes smiled right into his and Cas seemed to forget for a few moments that Sam was sitting beside them.

Sam cleared his throat and Cas' cheeks seemed a little pinker than usual to Dean. "Dean? Can I borrow the car? I promise to fill her up. I'll get Cas' ID started and be back in no time." Dean rolled his eyes, but finally nodded and gave Sam the keys. Sam grinned and rushed out the back door with a whoop. Dean shook his head grinning as he heard the deep rumble of the engine fading away. Sam seemed to be better the last few days, now that he had a project to work on. His thoughts were interrupted by Cas.

"Dean would you practise fighting with me? I am afraid that fighting with the strength of an angel may have been a very different thing from fighting as a human."

Dean knew it was Cas' need to avoid being a burden that drove him. He sure was in a hurry to learn everything. Dean also knew Cas' fighting style would need to be completely different, and was uncomfortable with the idea of fighting Cas, and it wasn't just because he'd had his ass whipped by Cas before. He wanted Cas to be able to defend himself when he needed to, so he sighed and nodded, and led Cas outside to the dusty yard. Cas was a fast learner. The safer he was, the better Dean would feel.

He took off his jacket and laid it aside. Cas waited, a little impatiently, for instructions. Dean waved for Cas to come at him and tapped his own chin, indicating where Cas should try to hit him. Cas looked very uncertain, his eyebrows heading towards his hairline. "Dean…," he said doubtfully. He remembered a time when the simplest movement from himself had drawn blood from Dean and left him a battered mess unable to stand. Dean beckoned him again, more insistently this time. Cas' expression hardened and he started to circle Dean, in a way that was both cautious and threatening. He reminded himself that he no longer had the ability to harm Dean without harm to himself. Dean started to circle too, staying focussed on Cas' movements.

Cas reflexes were still pretty good. Dean threw a punch at his face which Cas was able to block with his forearm. Then Dean decided to fight dirty, faked a punch and grabbed a hand full of hair instead, which he knew Cas couldn't do back, as Dean's hair was too short. Cas responded instantly by curving his foot around Dean's ankle, levering his shoulder under Dean's arm, and at the same time shoving. Dean ended up losing his grip on Cas' hair and landing on his ass. He scrambled back up and circled Cas again, deciding to wait for Cas to make the next move. He gave a calculating smile. Cas was better at this than he'd thought. That was encouraging. Maybe he should test him a little harder? He really wanted to know Cas would be okay in a fight.

Cas was enjoying this more than he had anticipated. There was a challenge to fighting as a human that had been missing when he fought as an immensely powerful angel. He had to extend himself and factor in many more distractions, such as pain and fatigue. As an angel he rarely had reason to use his full capacity, something he found he was frequently called to do as a human. He enjoyed it. He could still make the same graceful and efficient moves, but found his body did not respond instantly, as it had before. That was the problem.

When the lunge came, Dean was able to dodge it by mere fractions of an inch, but Cas had foreseen that, and crashed into Dean in a tackle that should have placed him above Dean, and left him able to punch Dean squarely in the face if he wished to. Cas had not experienced that kind of impact as a human, and it did not have the force behind it that it needed. Dean, however, was a veteran of many brotherly fights and immediately flipped them, and threw the first punch. It connected squarely with Cas' brow. Dean stopped dead, his fist still raised for the next blow.

Cas blinked a little dazedly and saw Dean's stricken face come into focus.

"Keep going. I have to learn to cope," Cas insisted gamely, but Dean got to his feet, shaken, and offered Cas a hand up. Once Cas was up, Dean turned Cas' face to inspect the damage. He ran his thumb over the small cut on his brow, recalling a time when hitting Cas had been like punching granite. That was gonna swell. He'd have a nice shiner by tomorrow. Cas had obediently allowed Dean to inspect his injury and now allowed Dean to tow him into the house by the wrist. He trusted Dean to know what to do for the injury. It was odd to feel an increasing unpleasant throb, instead of a momentary warmth and the contused flesh re-knitting itself. They stopped before the old, humming refrigerator where Dean removed a bag of frozen peas and placed it against Cas' brow. Cas hissed as the cold made the cut sting. This pain was different - sharper and burning. Dean grimaced in sympathy. He put the peas aside, held Cas' face and gently blew on the injured brow.

Cas watched him with something like bewilderment. "Dean." His voice was quiet, low and breathless, his eyes followed Dean's mouth. He knew, despite the occasional eruption, that most of Dean's inner life stayed hidden below the surface. What showed above the surface was usually just the tip of an emotional iceberg. He'd never had trouble seeing below that surface as an angel, even if he wasn't always sure of the cause of the internal tempests. Cas was discovering that feelings were incredibly persuasive tides, that suddenly swept through you at the smallest, strangest triggers. Triggers like the warm, soft breath of someone you trusted utterly, as they concentrated all their care on you.

Apparently, Dean realised, _not admitting_ you wanted something didn't _stop_ you from wanting it. Dean wanted Cas to be safe. He did. Associating with Dean had gotten him into this mess in the first place, and no-one (except Gabriel) seemed to realise that Cas needed protecting from _Dean_ , least of all Cas. He wanted Cas to be safe, but he _refused_ to give him up. He was the only genuinely good thing to come into Dean's life since the whole sorry Apocalypse had started, or ended. Just once, couldn't Dean _keep_ something good? He'd tried to do everything in his life for the good of others. Just this once.

He pulled Cas' chin towards him and kissed him. It was tender and brief. He hadn't wanted to scare Cas off and had to admit to himself that he feared rejection. He just wanted to show Cas that he cared. A lot. That's all.

Cas waited to see what else Dean would do, slightly dazed - from the punch or from the kiss, Dean couldn't guess. He hadn't run away or smacked Dean in the jaw which, in Dean's book, was a plus. Then Cas' hand cradled the back of his head and Cas' mouth was on his, moist and eager, and it was so far from rejection that Dean smiled into it. He pulled Cas closer. He could feel Cas' tongue tracing his lips. Cas' breath and lips were warm against his and murmured "Open," which was _so_ hot, Dean's brain melted into molten slag and all he could do was _anything_ Cas asked of him. With a sigh, he opened, accepting Cas' soothing tongue. Cas was completely engaged, so goddamned responsive. And - Sweet Jesus - he tasted _good_.

-oOo-

This is what it felt like to know, with complete certainty, that something was absolutely right. Dean had never felt that before, and never dreamed he would. He had never acted just because he wanted something for himself before. It was totally unlike the rest of his life, with its murky moral boundaries and choices between the lesser of two (or more) evils. His own emotions surprised him. It was as though, by deciding to try to keep this -whatever it was- with Cas, everything had simplified. Cas wanted him. Cas smiled at _him_. Cas was getting all breathless, over _him_. This was too good to stop and, knowing his luck, too good to last.

-oOo-

Dean felt like he'd lost time. He was leaning against the refrigerator slowly stroking Cas' sides while Cas leaned their foreheads together as they caught their breath. He had lost count of how many times they had done this, only for Cas to cup his face, press close again and seek out Dean's tongue with his own, at a new angle or pace. He seemed to want everything. It all felt so good, Dean encouraged more of it by curling his tongue around Cas' and stroking just behind Cas' ear with his thumb. It felt intense and safe at the same time.

Dean backed out of the kitchen towards the couch, taking Cas by the hand with him. He was enjoying what they had right now. He didn't want to push things, he just wanted to get comfortable. He sat on the couch drawing Cas easily towards him by a hand and patting the seat beside him. The corners of Cas' mouth drew into a fetching smile. He had all the openness of the unbetrayed. He knelt beside Dean on the couch, then straddled his lap, curling his fingers at Dean's nape and stroking. He angled Dean's head just how he wanted and kissed him slow and deep.

Holy shit. It was like Cas had lit some kind of fuse that was using up all Dean's oxygen and was going to make his heart explode. Dean knew his face looked comically scandalised. He could see it in the humorous twinkle of Cas' eyes.

Cas' body joined physical and emotional responses simultaneously into one. They couldn't be separated. They were all joined into one humming, joyous sensation. He liked kissing very much. The physical sensation was so pleasurable, it made him happy, and the happiness improved the physical sensations. It was an enjoyable emotional cycle that just got better and better.

"I have never felt a desire to be so close to someone before," he murmured, sliding his hands over Dean's upper arms.

Dean wasn't sure where Cas' confidence was coming from, but he kind of hoped it was trust. That would correspond nicely with how comfortable he felt with Cas. Dean smiled, embarrassed at his own sappy thoughts, and drew his thumb down over Cas' lips and stubbled chin. They were both going to have some explaining to do about rashes, if they kept this up. Probably he should give Cas a shaving lesson… Later.

Cas couldn't think. He only felt. Dean felt like warmth, comfort and love. He wanted Dean to be this close and open always. Everything he did, he did to pull Dean closer, to get deeper. As an angel he had known everything about Dean. Now he would have to learn Dean all over again in a whole new way. And he wanted to. _Very_ much. Cas' eyes roamed over Dean's face and he smiled fondly. Dean leaned back against the couch and rubbed the small of Cas' back, pulling him closer. Cas leaned in against him and nuzzled his nose beneath Dean's ear. "Mm, you smell warm, like you, and…" there was a soft graze of teeth and a slow, firm lick "…comfort, safety, ...and belonging…" He sounded puzzled, almost drugged. Cas nudged softly behind Dean's ear again, drawing a slow, deep breath. His hands slid under Dean's arms and curled up, over his shoulders as he buried his face against Dean's neck. Dean thought maybe he'd had an aneurism because his brain stopped being able to interpret anything but sensation. He didn't need anything but this. The world could just stop right here. He was pretty sure, if he'd had a voice, he would have embarrassed himself with incoherent moaning and highly blasphemous outbursts by now.

His fingers gripped at Cas' back, but he felt Cas sit back on his heels and become still. Dean opened his eyes (he didn't remember closing them) and saw Cas looking alert and distracted. Then he heard it. The low pulse-like throb of the Impala's engine.

There was _no way_ he was having this conversation with Sam. This was between him and Cas, no-one else. This was theirs. He and Cas looked at each other. Dean raised his finger to his lips. Cas looked wistful for a moment, which made Dean feel like ripping his own heart out and stomping it into filthy pulp, but Cas nodded and kissed Dean lingeringly on the forehead. Dean stayed there for a moment longer, stroking his thumbs down Cas' neck. He wanted so badly to stay like this. To be able to touch Cas, comfort Cas whenever he needed it; to comfort himself, if he was honest. Cas was someone he trusted, felt safe around. Someone who knew everything -and still liked him _anyway_. Everything: the good, the bad, the just plain dumb, even stuff Dean didn't always understand himself, Cas understood.

Dean heard the car on the gravel and the engine fading into silence. He took in Cas' grazed cheeks and swollen lips, and felt the warmth of a mark on his own neck just below his ear. They were gonna be _so_ busted. Why hadn't he given Cas a shaving lesson? He heard the groan of the driver's side door opening and the hollow, metallic slam of the door.

Cas saw Dean's eyes widen, a sure sign he'd had an idea. Dean urged Cas up, and leapt off the couch. He grabbed Cas' hand and dragged him to the bathroom.

-oOo-

Sam opened the screen door and threw Dean's jacket on the couch. Typical. Dean was so disorganised.

"Dean! You left your jacket outside!"

He looked in the kitchen. No sign of Cas and Dean, but there was a bag of frozen peas thawing on the table. Seriously? Dean was such a slob! He threw the bag of peas into the freezer. Or maybe something had happened to them…

"Guys?"

He saw their heads poke out of the bathroom doorway together, the bottom half of their faces covered in shaving foam, all the way to the towels draped around their necks.

Dean waved a cheerful greeting at Sam with the shaving razor in his hand. Cas just stared with his serious eyes. Sam smiled in relief.

"Shaving lesson, huh? Good idea. I'll be able to pick up your new ID next week Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

"You're welcome…" Sam frowned. "What the hell happened to your eye?"


	12. Dean's Angel is Awesome

In Sam's opinion, Dean had done a terrible job of teaching Cas to shave. His cheeks were scraped and irritated. Come to think of it, Dean's shave was pretty ordinary too.

"Dude, what happened? You look like hell." Dean gave him a dirty look.

"Seriously though, can we have a talk?"

Sam glanced at Cas, who was on the laptop with headphones plugged in, listening to samples on a music website, so he could choose what he wanted for his mp3 player. Sam had just given Cas a quick lesson on navigating his way on the internet, with a warning _not_ to click on anything that said he had won something, or offered anything for free.

The look Dean gave him was both wary and inquisitive. Sam motioned to the screen door. "Outside."

Dean nodded and led the way. Sam sat on the faded porch swing while Dean leaned his hips against the porch railing and folded his arms facing Sam. He eyed Sam expectantly. Sam paused, looking for the right words that wouldn't put Dean into total avoidance mode or make Dean punch him in the gut like a macho schoolboy.

"Uh…is everything okay? Is Cas okay? You guys don't say much. I mean Cas doesn't."

Dean's only response was to shrug, which frustrated Sam and made him more determined to get an answer.

"Come on, Dean! This can't be easy for you. I know you _hate_ it when people don't listen to you. This has got to be driving you crazy." Dean shook his head and made the 'okay' symbol with his hand.

"You're okay? Are you sure Cas is okay? 'Cause, you know, he doesn't even know enough to know when he's _not_ okay." Dean stared at Sam, bewildered. When had he turned into a Gilmore Girl?* Dean breathed out heavily in frustration and stormed into the house. He came back out followed by Cas and they stopped in front of Sam.

Cas' eyes were glued to Dean's even when Sam started talking. "Cas I have a couple of questions I want to ask you. I wanted to talk to Dean, but he's being a stubborn ass."

Dean didn't really take in what Sam was saying. He realised Cas' eyes were _always_ on him. Even when someone else was speaking, Cas was watching _his_ reaction. How had he never noticed that before? Maybe because he'd always been too busy mouthing off to pay attention. Cas tilted his head a little and gave Dean a small, sympathetic smile. "I'm sure Dean is being as open as he can be - without a voice."

Dean smiled to himself when he saw Sam looking a tiny bit guilty.

"Well … fine. My question's really for you anyway. How are you settling in? Are you okay? You know, being… human…?"

"It's unexpected…" Cas smile grew bigger, "surprising… sometimes uncomfortable and confusing, but it isn't 'rocket science', Sam." Dean grinned at Cas' use of air quotes and pop references. His angel was awesome.

"You do know that if you're having problems coping, you can tell us, right?"

"Of course."

"And if Dean gives you any problems," Sam gave Dean a pointed look "you can talk to me, okay?"

"Dean has been nothing but generous and supportive. He has taught me to shoot, taught me to shave, loaned me his car for driving lessons," Cas' smile grew a little wider showing that he realised what a grand gesture of trust that had been on Dean's part, "and comforted me when I was upset."

Sam looked surprised. "You were upset?"

Dean snorted, took a quick step towards Sam and smacked him upside the head.

"Hey!" Sam rubbed his ear vigorously and scowled resentfully at Dean. He held up a warning finger to Dean. "You don't get to do that! I'm serious! You need me right now, so quit being such a jerk!"

Dean held his hands up in surrender and nodded once. It was true, Sam had been pretty good to him, and Cas too.

Cas watched them with a furrowed brow. "I don't understand why you are fighting."

"I think Dean got _offended_ because I hadn't noticed that you'd been upset." Sam gave Dean a sidelong glare and continued rubbing his ear aggrievedly.

"That's not fair. You weren't present when I was upset." Cas turned to Dean and raised his eyebrows accusingly. Sam watched, fascinated as Dean got that stubborn look, with his lips puckered and his chin sticking out. Finally, Dean looked at Sam begrudgingly then rolled his eyes and to Sam's surprise, held out his hand. Sam grabbed it and hauled a resistant Dean in for a manly, back-slapping hug. "I forgive you, you jack ass."

Cas felt a warm expansive sensation in his chest. He looked contentedly upon his work.

" _Take this pink ribbon from my eyes-"_ There was the sound of No Doubt's 'Just a Girl' coming from Sam's pocket. Sam scowled as a smirk grew on Dean's face. He had reprogrammed Sam's ring tone while Sam was distracted one morning. It was _still_ funny. Dean noticed Cas' eyes were still on him.

"Hey Bobby!…Yeah. They're okay." Sam half turned his back on Dean and Cas for some privacy, which immediately made Dean want to eavesdrop more.

"Uh huh….Uh huh… Oh. Okay… No, nothing… Alright, see you soon."

Sam pocketed his phone and turned back to Cas and Dean.

"Bobby will be back tomorrow. He thinks he found something useful in an old Mesopotamian text."**

Cas and Dean looked at each other with hope.

-oOo-

Despite all of Dean's energetic gesticulating, Cas refused to sleep on the couch in his new checked boxers and grey t-shirt, and insisted on sleeping on the floor, next to Dean. He didn't so much argue, as completely ignore all of Dean's flailing gestures, and then do whatever he wanted. Dean pretended to be annoyed, but he wasn't really, because Cas wouldn't have paid Dean any more attention if he'd been able to speak, and Dean found that stupidly encouraging. He lay in the dark listening to Cas breathing and felt a little melancholy knowing Sam would be back on the couch tomorrow. Bobby might have a clue that could get Dean and Cas back to how they used to be. Well, maybe not _exactly_ how they used to be.

Dean heaved a heavy sigh and heard a rustle as Cas rolled over in the dark. Cas pressed himself along Dean's back, from his calves to his shoulders, and draped the warm weight of his arm over Dean's waist. His hand briefly rubbed Dean's t-shirt covered stomach before settling, heavy and reassuring, over his belly button. Dean gripped Cas' arm and pulled his embrace tighter. He fell asleep with a speed that touched Cas deeply with its display of undeclared trust. Cas had always felt a need to defend Dean, but this was different, an intense protective urge. He lay awake for quite some time contemplating it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reference to the TV show Gilmore Girls and their fast-paced, labyrinthine dialogue. Don't Google it. Sam would be embarrassed at the comparison.
> 
> **Obviously, he meant a translation, not an _actual_ cuneiform tablet, which are rare and coveted by professional archaeologists, and not found lying on the shelves of near-bankrupt, semi-retired Hunters … ;)  
>  If you don't know what cuneiform is, it's time to hit Google, Wiki and your local library . Sam would be proud.


	13. The Gang's All Here

"Well, well."

Dean jerked awake, causing Cas' arm and leg, draped over him, to instinctively tighten their grip. Dean was lying sprawled on his back, arms thrown wide, one beneath Cas' head. Cas was closely wrapped around Dean.

"They didn't tell me it would be like visiting the aquarium." Dean recognised Crowley's smarmy tone and lifted his head to glare at him.

"There's a sprawling starfish and a groping octopus. I'll be the seal, shall I?" He clapped loudly but slowly. Cas groaned. "Crowley, your attempts at humour are worse than anything Alistair ever did with a blade."

"I will take that as a compliment. The _rest_ of the gang are waiting in the kitchen, so I suggest you get up, get decent, and join us." He placed his hands in his pockets and sauntered away, looking smug. Balthazar owed him a bottle of Glen Craig.

Cas and Dean looked at each other equally perplexed. Dean's eyebrows rose as he noticed Cas' brow had swollen overnight. He reached for Cas' bruised eye but stopped before touching the tender bump. Cas felt his own brow gingerly, his face scrunched in discomfort. Dean gave him a sympathetic half-smile. Pain felt as a human sucked out loud.

Dean and Cas walked into the kitchen, having changed out of their sleepwear. Dean felt defensive enough, faced with all the others _and_ voiceless; he had _no_ plans to stand before anyone in pyjamas. It looked like a mafia family gathering. Bobby's dingy kitchen contained an archangel dressed, for reasons known only to him, in a Los Angeles Angels jersey; an angel dressed like an off-duty Calvin Klein model, a king of the literal Underworld and two tired-looking hunters.

Balthazar frowned upon seeing the injury to Cas' brow. He strode over and touched a finger to the injury making it disappear, then went back to his place beside Gabriel who exchanged a cryptic look with him. Cas reached up and felt his tingling brow. How odd it felt, to be on the receiving end of a healing. He nodded his thanks to Balthazar, who gave him a small but genuine smile.

Sam stood up, out of his slumped posture against the bench, taking his hands out of his jacket pockets. "Before we start, I just want to talk to you for a minute outside, Cas. Alone."

Dean frowned because this left _him_ alone with Bobby, Balthazar, Gabriel and Crowley and no voice to defend himself with. Bobby came over and patted his shoulder. "You okay, kid?"

Dean relaxed a little and nodded.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I for one, am glad you decided to put on some pants."

"He has a point," Gabriel chimed in, "and by the way, I trust my fallen bro is _still_ eligible to pat unicorns?"* The comment was couched in humour but his eyes issued a warning.

This seemed to jog Crowley's memory. "Ah yes, Balthazar, you owe me a bottle of Glen Craig."

Balthazar grimaced, but didn't argue.

"Oh jeez," Dean thought, "Please hurry back, Cas." He had a mental picture of Cas coming back to find Gabriel picking his teeth and no sign of Dean.

-oOo-

"So…uh," Sam faltered. Cas did not wish to help Sam in the least. He stood statue-like. He couldn't understand Sam's insistent attempts at dissecting and analysing Dean's private life. Cas thought he understood now what Dean meant when he claimed Sam was 'living in his pocket'.

"You and Dean… seem…close. Closer." Sam fiddled nervously with the cuff of his canvas jacket. He never buttoned the cuffs up, the sleeves were always too short.

Cas said nothing, but stood frowning at Sam, waiting for him to get to the point. Sam folded his arms over his chest. He couldn't believe someone who'd been human for less than a week was trying to psych him out.

"You sure you know what you're uh … getting into?"

"Dean means me no harm," Cas declared, giving Sam a more concentrated frown.

"Yeah, well. What Dean intends and what actually happens don't always coincide."

"Well, what _I_ intend generally happens," Cas stated forcefully, scowling. He marched purposefully to go back inside. He stopped at the door and turned.

"You might try supporting your brother. Things are difficult enough for him and this isn't yours to decide."

Sam was left standing on the porch, distractedly tugging at his sleeve and feeling he had completely missed something. He'd always thought what Cas wanted and what Dean wanted were two different things… weren't they?

-oOo-

Cas returned to stand next to Dean. Sam trailed in, a few moments later, looking pensive. Dean attempted to make eye contact with Cas and get an explanation. Cas looked reluctant, but eventually muttered under his breath to Dean, "I don't believe that someone with Sam's history of relationships should be so quick to judge." He blushed and looked annoyed at the same time. Dean snorted, but let the comment slide. Sam was his brother, but Cas was right. It's not like Sam could lead by example. He frowned slightly at Sam. Sam was trying to discuss _relationships_ with Cas?

The thought ran around in circles, shrivelling Dean's manly parts, then ran yelping for the horizon.

They were finally all arranged in the kitchen. Perched on the bench top, next to the kitchen sink with his ankles crossed, his hands folded in the lap of his over-sized Angels jersey, Gabriel began. "I am sorry to say, we may be able to get Dean's voice back." He smiled, not entirely maliciously. Dean and Cas looked at each other surprised and hopeful.

"Aren't they precious?" Balthazar commented, "It's like something on the Hallmark channel."

"Shut up and tell them," Bobby interjected. Gabriel spoke up again.

"Balthazar tells me Crowley has been testing the blade. Would _you_ like to proceed?" Gabriel swept his arm at Crowley in an 'after you' gesture. Crowley stepped forward. Dean shuddered at the thought of what Crowley's testing might have involved.

"Well, like any blade, it's pointy and slices 'n' dices. But the cuts aren't fatal and, curiously, the wounds refuse to heal. And apparently, it _stings_ like a son of a bitch. So in summary, it isn't the all-destroying weapon they were trying to create, but I believe it houses your aggravating, irritating voice," Crowley finished, smiling coldly at Dean.

Sam laughed at this announcement, which left Dean looking confused and disturbed in equal measure. He couldn't see what was so funny. "Oh, Dean! It's you all over. The stinging words that cut and refuse to heal." Gabriel nodded without comment.

"But how do we retrieve it?" Cas' question quickly sobered Sam. It was Bobby's turn to step forward. "You ain't gonna like it." Dean waved his hands in a 'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there' gesture and pointed at Cas, questioningly. "No, this won't restore his grace," Balthazar supplied. Dean frowned thunderously and folded his arms with the intention of being stubborn. Cas laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dean." Cas' mouth curled up at the corners, but his eyes were serious, "Let's _hear_ the plan before we reject it." Cas could see the concern behind the anger and obstinacy, and squeezed his shoulder. Dean closed his eyes and hung his head in acceptance. Balthazar and Gabriel exchanged a brief, meaningful glance.

Bobby cleared his throat.

"So, I read some translations of an old Mesopotamian text and one version talks about 'wielding a weapon born of soul' and later about the weapon being 'sheathed from whence it came' -"

"How brilliantly Freudian," Crowley interrupted. His amusement was not dimmed in the least by Bobby's scornful glare. Balthazar's eyes also gleamed with humour. "Anyhow, if I'm readin' it right…if it means what I think it does…we have to stab Dean with the sword." Dean's head snapped up at this. He stared at Bobby wide eyed and shook his head. His entire demeanour said 'Aw, hell no!' Bobby looked regretful, but stoic as always. He'd do whatever needed to be done, whatever was best.

Gabriel spoke up. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. Mm, sugar-coating…ah, yes. It's gonna hurt. It _may_ be fatal. _Either_ way, you won't be living without a voice any more. Oh, and its most likely to work if Cas does the stabbing, seeing as the sword was prepared for _him_ ," he paused to bite his lip and gaze at the ceiling thoughtfully, "I think that's everything." Cas looked appalled. Crowley's hearty chuckle echoed around the kitchen. "Oh yes! _Stab_ him with your _sword_ , Castiel!" he said suggestively. "Crowley!" Castiel's voice held an edge that, if he'd still had his grace, would have made the ground shake.

"I apologise. The blatant homoerotic symbolism got the better of me…" Crowley grinned unapologetically. A final wheeze of laughter escaped before he managed to control himself. Balthazar smiled indulgently. Bobby watched Dean with concern. "Its your call, Harpo."**

Dean held up his hands in a T, giving the time-out signal. He pointed at his watch and held up one finger.

"An hour?" Sam guessed. Dean nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Dean, for what it's worth, I want you _stay alive_. Even if you can't get your voice back." Sam was surprised. Dean wanted time to think, instead of rushing ahead? He'd seen Dean be dumb about a lot of things, but he'd never seen something make Dean act _smart_ before.

Dean's lopsided smile was reluctant. The little bitch would probably _love_ it if Dean was mute forever. He punched Sam weakly in the shoulder.

It was clear to Castiel, that Dean had already started to consider the pros and cons of their plan. His eyes had a far-off, unfocussed look. Dean made vague shooing motions at all of them, as he wandered through the kitchen and outside to the car yard, abstractedly. Cas followed him. The others looked at each other dazed.

"Gotta say," Gabriel piped up, "silence on him, is just downright unsettling."

"The boy wants to _think_ before he _acts_?" Bobby belatedly asked, stunned. "What the hell just happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Wikipedia ('cause Wiki never lies… o,o) describes the unicorn as "a symbol of purity and grace, which can only be captured by a virgin". Coincidentally (or not) the first known mention of the unicorn is in the Mesopotamian text The Epic of Gilgamesh, which, if you squint a tiny bit, is a bromance.
> 
> **Reference to Harpo Marx, the silent member of The Marx Brothers. They were a famous comedy act and made many films from the 1920s to the 1950s. Groucho is their most famous member with his crazy moustache, eyebrows and ever-present cigar.


	14. Slinkies and Magic 8 Balls

Dean's mind was a tangled mess of conflicting hopes and fears as he walked down the porch steps. He absently headed around the corner of the barn that Bobby used as a workshop. He wasn't sure what he was more afraid of. He could try to get his voice back, but what if… And he was just starting with Cas. He didn't want it to end so soon. But if he didn't try, he wasn't sure if he could live life as some kind of invalid, with this disability that made hunting more dangerous and difficult than it already was. He wasn't sure he could live like that and not start to resent it. Hell, he resented it _already_. He thumped his forehead quietly against the peeling clapboard side of the barn and closed his eyes. But if it worked, and he survived …would he and Cas still be the same? Or would Dean start ruining everything with his big mouth again? Who was he kidding? It was a _huge_ possibility. Sometimes it was like his mouth was controlled by someone who really didn't like him.

"Dean."

Dean straightened up and turned to find Cas right _there_ , just like old times. The tops of Cas' brows were raised in concern. It made him look like a puppy expecting a reprimand. Dean slid down and sat with his back against the barn wall. He'd known it was too good to last and he'd been right. It was going to end soon, one way or another. If it went bad, at least he'd known Cas felt…something. And _he_ felt…something.

Cas sat right beside Dean, in the dewy weeds, beneath the shadowed wall. He had things he wanted to say to Dean regardless of what decision Dean made.

"I want to tell you something, Dean." He placed his hand on Dean's thigh and watched as his own fingers brushed the fabric and refused to sit still. Human bodies were traitorous things. When he looked up, Dean was watching his face, searching his eyes, like the night in the bar that seemed so long ago now. He realised Dean was really listening and had been that night in the bar. Dean draped his arm around Cas, loose-limbed and warm, and hugged him closer.

"Dean…" He wasn't sure if he could say it, or if Dean wanted to hear it, but Dean might decide to risk his own life to get his voice back and he might lose that gamble. Cas couldn't keep silent. He watched his own hand fidgeting on Dean's jean-clad leg because he wasn't sure he wanted to see Dean's expression when he said this.

"Dean, I've always loved you. In one form or another. From the moment you had the audacity to look me in the eye while you stabbed me through the heart."* He took the risk of sneaking a glance at Dean from under his lashes. Dean had blinked for a split-second in surprise. He put his hand over Cas' and hugged him tighter. Cas took a small breath and rushed on, "And, if you so choose, I will return the favour." Dean rolled his eyes, and smiled, leaning his forehead against Cas'. He cupped Cas' face, tilting it down so he could kiss him on the forehead. He stroked Cas' cheeks with his thumbs and pulled him close for a more thorough kiss. Cas' fine fingers curled around his wrists, firm but tender.

"Dean, I don't want you to die. I don't want to be stranded here without you. But I know you will be frustrated, miserable and full of self-loathing, …more so than usual, if you don't try." Cas felt a huge strain in letting Dean make the decision, but he tried to keep his voice lightly teasing. There was a huge, condensed ache between his heart and his throat. He really wanted Dean to take the safe option, but even if Dean didn't choose to risk his life trying to get his voice back, that was no guarantee of his safety in the future. As Dean would say 'Shit happened'. Either Cas believed in free will or he didn't. He couldn't just preach free choice when it suited him. So he had to let Dean choose. And it hurt. If Dean chose the dangerous option, Cas figured he might as well be the one stabbing Dean. If it all went wrong, well, Cas could hardly imagine feeling worse, whether he'd done the stabbing or not. He would do whatever Dean needed him to do. He understood now why humans cried when there was no physical injury.

-oOo-

Sam sat at Bobby's desk while Bobby insisted the two angels and the demon leave his home. Bobby was not having them loitering, drinking his good whiskey and driving him to distraction, while Dean took his time. They were here with his permission, and he was damned well taking it back. Did he look like a damned hostess?

Sam rested his chin in his hand and idly shook the Magic 8 Ball that Bobby used as a paper weight. He tuned out the arguing in the next room. This could be the biggest thing to happen to them since they averted the apocalypse. What the hell were their lives, that he could downgrade 'The Apocalypse' to 'the apocalypse', without uppercase, like it happened once a week? So yeah, this could be huge, and for once, Dean was taking his time. That was a first. It was like that creepy, tense, calm period just before a tornado. And what was with Cas? Every time he tried to haul Cas away from Dean's emotional vortex, he kept slipping Sam's grip and diving straight into the yawning well, head first. He'd tried to warn Dean that Cas was getting … attached. But then Dean had gone to all this trouble to acclimatize Cas, like he hadn't done since Sam was a kid, a hunter in training.

Sam had stumbled across Cas and Dean's cosy sleeping arrangements before they woke, but tried not to make too much of it, because that was Dean all over. He'd get all tactile and handsy, and then wonder why people got upset when he disappeared with no forwarding address. Their lives were never simple, but _maybe_ it was exactly what it _looked_ like? Sam shook the Magic 8 Ball: 'Yes.'

It was true. He'd known it deep down without asking a stupid toy. Dean had fallen for Cas, like a slinky down a stairwell.

And holy crap, Cas had made it pretty obvious from the beginning that he was Dean's. In fact, in hindsight, it was mind-boggling to Sam that Dean hadn't reacted sooner. Cas couldn't have been more obvious. But of course, now that Dean had finally realised he had _feelings_ , he might die. Because heaven forbid that Dean should catch a break. Screw it all to hell! Sam hurled the Magic 8 Ball against the fire place. **

-oOo-

Dean and Cas were still huddled together against the barn when Dean's phone beeped. He'd already made his decision really. He was just trying to get used to the feeling of possibly losing what he'd just gained. The possibility that Cas would be left hurting if this went wrong. But Sam would be there and Dean hoped they would help each other get through it … if it went wrong. He looked at his phone. The text was from Sam: "Voice or no voice, you're still an idiot." With it was a picture of a half covered Cas and Dean, entwined on the floor of Bobby's living room. Dean was sprawled, his relaxed, sleeping face turned towards Cas; his arm was loosely slung around Cas, cradling his head. Cas' face was tucked against Dean's neck, barely visible; the rest of him wrapped tightly around Dean. It was the thing that nearly changed Dean's mind. "Sam, you sneaky bitch," he thought, as he loudly swallowed a lump of pain and willed his rapidly blinking eyes to man the hell up.

Cas pulled Dean's hand closer so he could see what Dean was looking at on the phone. He stared at the phone for several long seconds, before raising brimming, blue eyes to Dean.

"This will be very difficult for me, Dean. But I will do it. For you."

Damn it. Why'd he have to be so goddamned _earnest_? Dean had made his decision and here were Cas and Sam, making him second guess himself. Normally he had no problem gambling _everything_ against the odds. But now he had something to lose that he didn't want to live without. Was it worth it?

Yes, he _had_ to. There were too many things unsaid, that he really needed to say. Things he wanted to say to Cas. And to Sam, to Bobby, to the world in general. He wrote his text to Cas.

"I have to do it."

Cas crawled into his lap and wrapped his limbs snugly around Dean again, in his artless way. "If this fails, you won't be warm and alive like this," he murmured hoarsely. "I will miss your flawed arguments. That smirk you have, when you think you're amusing. The way you pet the car when you think no one is looking." Cas gave a choked laugh. "Even your inharmonious singing." Dean settled his arms firmly around Cas and rubbed his back soothingly. He couldn't make this better.

-oOo-

"Sam?" Bobby's voice from the kitchen doorway sounded incredibly uncomfortable. It reminded Sam of the time Dean had given him the Birds and Bees talk. "Are your brother and the angel … ? You know."

Sam sighed with his back still to Bobby. "I don't know." He continued to spread mayonnaise on the turkey sandwich he was making . "I know they're … close. I think Dean loves him maybe. But I don't have any idea if Dean knows that." Sam turned to face Bobby, mayonnaise-covered knife still in his hand, and frowned thoughtfully.

"He's good for Dean, you know? I've seen them spend hours together working on the car without saying a word, perfectly content. He makes Dean _laugh_." Sam sounded awed. "I haven't seen Dean drink since that first night, have you?"

Bobby scratched his bearded cheek. "No… can't say I have. Huh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Season 4, episode 1: Lazarus Rising. When Dean first meets Cas, he stabs him in the chest with the demon-killing knife. 
> 
> **No Magic 8 Balls were harmed in the making of this chapter


	15. Jane Goes Native

The idea of losing Dean so soon after discovering the joys of his affection tormented Cas. He had lost track of time while he buried his face against Dean and wallowed in misery. It was a human emotion he had hoped to avoid for as long as possible; a naïve idea, he knew. Dean had been patient and allowed him to just feel his agony. Or maybe Dean was resigned to facing unfair odds with little reward. His fingers stroked at Dean's back in an effort to calm himself. Cas' lips pressed together. There _must_ be another way. He pulled away to watch Dean's face. "Dean? … Do you have to try to get your voice back _now_? There doesn't seem to be a time limit. Could we not wait until we have found a way to make it safe?" There were underlying tones of desperation to his roughened voice. Hope felt like a poisonous illusion.

Dean shook his head and brushed back Cas' mess of dark hair. He couldn't. The longer he waited, the more he would have to lose, the harder it would be for him to take the risk. It was a shame Cas couldn't have more of the positive human experiences before this happened. It killed him inside to see Cas suffering so much over _him,_ like he hadn't caused enough suffering in the world already. He'd weighed the pros and cons a hundred times in the past hour. Worst case scenario- he kicked it, 'bought the farm', and Cas was left free of Dean, the unlucky millstone hanging round his neck. Best case scenario- it worked, Dean lived on and continued to complicate their lives in new and unpredictable, but inevitable, ways.

He looked Cas in the eyes and tried to convey why he had to try. Cas didn't look like he understood at all. Actually, he looked upset. Dean released him in surprise, as Cas clumsily pushed himself up. Cas turned and stalked away. Dean watched him, feeling panicked. Where would Cas go? He had no-one. After a few steps Cas stopped. He turned on his heel and came back, stopping one step away from Dean, clenching and unclenching his fists. He spoke, stiff jawed. "I would dearly like to _smite_ something right now." Dean hung his head and sighed. It was the effect he'd had on many, long before he'd met Castiel.

"I can't continue to anticipate such misery. We should go back and get it over with." Dean looked up at Cas haloed by sunlight. Cas deserved better. He nodded, took the hand offered by Cas' silhouette and was pulled to his feet.

-oOo-

Their return threw Bobby's into a kind of structured chaos. Sam called Gabriel back, who brought with him Balthazar and Crowley. Crowley had brought the sword. Cas couldn't take his eyes off it; the weapon on which his future happiness depended. "May I touch it?" he asked Crowley.

The corner of Crowley's mouth rose. "Buy a guy a drink first."

The look Cas gave him suggested Crowley might be the first thing Cas tested the sword on.

Sam and Gabriel were coaching Dean who, to Sam's practised eye, looked nervous enough to puke.

"It might be a good idea to strap him down," Gabriel said to Sam, as though Dean weren't _right there_. "Once the sword bites in, his instinct will be to squirm, and that could cause unnecessary damage."

'See, _this_ is why Gabriel and I will never get along,' Dean thought.

Cas was testing the weight of the sword, swinging it in loose figure eights. It felt unnaturally warm in his hand. His body seemed to retain some muscle memory from his angel days. The sword balanced lightly in his hand, his arms moved in fluid arcs, in perfect time with each lunge of his legs. Crowley moved discreetly to a far corner of the kitchen. Cas turned to Dean with a savage grin. "I may not be good at hand to hand combat, but I feel balanced with a sword in my hand. I believe I will do better with weapons than fists." Dean acknowledged this with an encouraging smile and a small nod. He felt better knowing Cas would be able to defend himself if Dean wasn't there to watch his back. The feeling was counteracted by the hollow sensation at the thought of _not_ being there to watch Cas' back.

"Probably the kitchen table is best," Gabriel continued, "We can strap him to it easily and it should be easy to clean afterwards." Dean scrunched his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a short, sharp huff. Sam gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze.

Balthazar took Castiel aside. "Are you sure you're ready?" Cas paused for a second to do a quick internal audit of his emotions. "No. I don't believe I will ever be ready. But I will do this to the best of my ability, because no-one can give Dean a better chance."

"We will get back your grace," Balthazar promised.

Cas shrugged a non-committal shoulder.

"Because you have faith that we will? Or because you don't care?" Balthazar probed.

Castiel met Balthazar's challenging stare head-on. "Pick one," he replied.

"You _don't_ care, do you? You've gone native!" Balthazar accused, laughing. "You're Jane to his Tarzan." Cas looked annoyed and confused. "I don't know what that means, but if you continue to pressure me, I assure you, Balthazar, I 'know where the bodies are buried'." Cas made good use of his recently acquired air quotation skills, despite his hands being full of sword.

"Oh relax, I was sampling the human smorgasbord long before _you_. I'm not judging. I'm just surprised." He went on, sounding impressed, "Gabriel was right. You certainly don't do things by halves, Castiel."

They were distracted by Gabriel clapping his hands twice, loudly.

"Alright people, let's get this show on the road!"

-oOo-

Dean felt the clammy hand of pure fear on his neck. This could be the one. The last one. No more near misses. No more close calls, leaving scars and tall stories behind. He was pretty sure he'd used up all his free passes. He could end worse, he supposed. The world was still in one piece. He and Sam were still family. Bobby still had Sam and Dean's backs. And Cas. _Cas_. He felt like he'd accidentally won someone else's first prize. Damned if he was handing it back either.

He searched out Cas' face in the group and held out his hand. Cas gave the sword to Gabriel, who briefly clasped his shoulder. Cas came to Dean's side and held Dean's hand in both of his. "I will not leave your side." He met Dean's eyes, saw the fear but continued the stare, which Dean found reassuring. It was Cas' thing, staring.

Dean knew if he had a voice he would probably never say the things that were hiding in him like cowardly hermits, but at least he'd have the _option_. If he ever grew the balls. God, he didn't want to die. If he survived this, he promised to say all the good things that he'd never admitted, to the people he cared about. He just hoped Cas knew what he was trying to say every time he kissed Cas on the forehead. If he had one regret, it was always being such a wiseass jerk when his friends and family were trying to let him closer. Now he was likely to die a _guilty_ , wiseass jerk, because he'd never been good at writing essays, and he couldn't speak. This wasn't one of those many occasions where he had no choice and no time. He could take all the time he _wanted_. He could decide _not_ to do this. He didn't really know the difference between love and duty, but he knew he didn't want to let Cas out of his sight ever again. But it wasn't enough. Hunting was his _life_ and he needed to be able to speak to do it right. Sam came and stood by his other side awkwardly. "This is really dumb Dean. _Really_ dumb. But whenever you're ready..."

Aw, hell.

He pulled Cas close enough to cradle the back of his head and kissed him deeply. The back of Cas' neck felt tense under Dean's fingers as he stroked the soft hair at his nape. He felt Cas' hands frame his face and Cas' tongue tenderly stroke against his. Cas' response was passionate but measured. They were starting to develop a rhythm, when Cas gently disengaged, blushing. He searched Dean's eyes and softly traced one of Dean's eyebrows with his thumb. "I know," He whispered and kissed Dean on the forehead.

Dean sighed. Yeah, now _everyone_ knew. Dean had liked when what they had was _just_ theirs.

"I should have bet a _case_ of Glen Craig," Crowley complained from his corner.

"Wow." Sam commented. "I did _not_ expect _that_."


	16. Sheathing the Sword

"This isn't for my benefit, bucko, but you're gonna have to remove the shirt," Gabriel smirked at Dean and cradled the sword in his folded arms. Cas spared a moment to frown at him, but turned back to Dean to take the shirt as Dean unrolled the cuffs and removed it. Cas folded it setting it aside. Bobby came back from his trip to the panic room with an ancient first aid case lugged in both hands, and paused momentarily to watch Dean take a deep breath before laying on the table.

Dean lay on the cold, hard surface, staring at the ceiling, unable to see what anyone was doing. Maybe they _would_ have to tie him down. This felt too much like an operating table and nothing _good_ had ever happened to him on any freakin' operating table. Dean could hear Sam coaching Cas. "If we do this in the right place, we can do minimal physical damage, and as long as there are no supernatural complications - he should be…okay." Dean really wished he could hum. He could really use some Metallica to calm his nerves right now. He felt Cas' fingers touch his shoulder and turned his head to look at him. "Here… might do little damage. Must I stab him? Couldn't a graze have the same effect?" Cas was giving Sam the puppy eyes. Served Sam right, being on the receiving end for once.

Gabriel interjected, uninvited,"Mm… I don't know. A graze doesn't sound like the equivalent of 'sheathed'…" Dean fervently wished he had a voice, so he could tell them all to stop discussing him like he wasn't conscious and _right there_. He was just about ready to stab _himself_ , just to get it over with.

"Anyway, kiddo, you sure you want to give him his voice back?" Dean heard Gabriel lowering his voice to Cas. "He'll be mouthy as hell. Have you forgotten what he's like? You sure you don't like him better this way? I know I do."

Dean's hands clenched involuntarily. He felt Cas' hand cover his clenched fist. There was only the rustle of Cas shifting, and silence. Gabriel sighed in exasperation " _Fine_. But you're human for now. You're stuck with him. You can't just flit away when he grates on your nerves. And he will." 

"Gabriel… Let him who is without sin…"*

"Oh, shut up." Dean heard Gabriel move away and smiled. Cas squeezed his hand. Cas was the best.

Bobby swabbed an area on Dean's shoulder with damp cottonwool, which made it feel icy. He raised questioning eyes at Bobby who grimaced apologetically. "Antiseptic and local anaesthetic. Should help…a little." Dean pursed his lips in a half-hearted smile. He was pretty sure the local anaesthetic wouldn't do jack.

Dean felt Sam's careful hands on his wrists, then Sam putting his bodyweight behind the pressure. Dean swallowed in nervousness and nearly choked. He felt Bobby's calloused hands pinning his shoulders and the beginning of panic made his body tense up.

He felt an unrelentingly hard pressure holding down his ankles and craned his head off the table, nearly head-butting Bobby in the process. Dean saw Balthazar was holding his ankles down and watching with detached interest. "What? I'm giving it the personal touch. Gabriel or I could just 'mojo' you to the table if you prefer?" Dean shook his head vehemently. Hell no.

Cas put a damp-palmed hand on Dean's forehead and gently pressed his head back down to the table.

"Release him, Balthazar." Dean felt the pressure lift. He sighed and looked gratefully at Cas. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't lash out when they started… cutting. Cas sighed, unhappy and resigned.

"Sam, you too."

Cas pulled out a chair, using it to climb onto the table and straddle Dean's thighs, pinning his legs. A tiny corner of Dean's mind really wanted to make a lewd comment, but was swamped by fear. Dean understood now why Sam had to let go. If he was leaning across Dean to hold both wrists he'd be in Cas' way. "Sam, you hold one wrist. Gabriel, you hold the other. Balthazar, give me the sword. Crowley… stay over there."

"Absolutely." Crowley pointed his phone at the scene and snapped a shot for his future entertainment.

Cas gripped the sword in both hands, resting the cold tip on Dean's right shoulder, below the collar bone. It tingled and stung against Dean's skin. Dean's instinct was to screw his eyes shut and hope for the best. But that would leave Cas shouldering the burden on his own, and since Cas was doing this for Dean, very much against his own wishes, that would be a selfish-dick thing to do.

"Dean?" Cas watched his eyes. Dean knew it was his last chance to change his mind. He kind of wanted to say "You know what? I think I'm okay," but of course he _fucking couldn't_. Screw this. He gave a small nod of his head. Dean saw an almost imperceptible tremor in Cas' hands as Cas took a deep breath.

Then there was only the screaming pain of burning and freezing at the same time, from the inside out, as his body arched off the table, even under the combined weight of his family holding him in place. It felt like something was trying to rake its way out of him, using hooked barbs.

His mind, completely immersed in pain, couldn't absorb anything else, but those around him heard what sounded like a sigh. It was coming from Dean and grew in volume until it became a hoarse cry and then a scream. It seemed to Cas like it would never end. It just seemed to go on and on. This awful, anguished sound, flayed from Dean's soul. And he had caused it, by putting the blade against Dean's skin and pushing against the slight resistance, until suddenly there wasn't any. Inches of the blade had disappeared and given rise to a pulse of blood. And that wasn't even the worst part. Cas had _felt_ Dean's body convulse in agony. Then there was the horrifying hoarse whisper that grew into a scream.

It suddenly stopped and Dean went lax as his mind shut down, unable to cope. The sudden silence seemed to buzz in Cas' ears. He didn't feel anything. Why didn't he feel anything? He watched as Sam stiffly unclenched his fingers from Dean's bruised wrist and held a hand in front of Dean's nose. Sam heaved a gigantic sigh and looked up at Cas with relief in his moist eyes. Cas pulled out the sword, threw it to the floor and climbed off Dean's inert form. Bobby slapped a fat wad of gauze on the seeping wound and pressed Cas' hands down onto it.

Crowley broke the thick silence by drawling, "Did that look like pantomime sex to anyone else? The straddling, the writhing, the screaming - the slumping. _I_ saw sex." Even Gabriel shook his head in disbelief at Crowley's nerve. Cas froze.

"Get out." Castiel's voice grated with restrained rage. He took a step towards Crowley; every angle of his limbs presaged violence. Sam quickly replaced Cas' hands over Dean's wound. Crowley's eyebrows rose in affronted surprise. There was a snap of fingers and Crowley was gone. The line of Cas' shoulders softened and his hands visibly shook as he turned to Gabriel and spoke quietly, "Thank you."

Gabriel dipped his chin in acknowledgement. "The deepest snowdrift in Alaska is a little less pure than it used to be," he replied, with a smirk. He watched uneasily as Cas turned back to Dean.

Balthazar touched Dean's wrists, making the bruises from Sam and Gabriel's hold disappear. His hand hesitated over Dean's shoulder where Sam held the padded bandage in place.

"Well?" Bobby interrupted impatiently "Watcha waitin' for? An invitation?"

"No." He looked at Bobby, distinctly unimpressed. "It can only be healed by the touch of true love…" He paused with a small smile, "I'm kidding." He carefully moved Sam's hands aside and removed the bloody dressing. The skin underneath was unmarred. A small hiccup of emotion escaped Cas' throat and Sam gave Cas the kind of demonstrative hug usually reserved for Dean, leaving bloody handprints on his shirt. Cas hugged him back fervently in relief, marring Sam's shirt in return with his own smaller print.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bible, John 8:7 "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone" meaning, he that is guilty of an offence, shouldn't hypocritically judge others.


	17. Things That Bump in the Dark

Bobby had insisted Sam and Cas carry the unconscious Dean to his room, while he called a local doctor to take a professional look at Dean, even though Gabriel had assured him that Dean would be back to normal given time. Bobby had just grunted and asked the archangel to leave and take Balthazar with him. Not that he wasn't grateful, but there was nothing for him to do here but get in the way. Gabriel looked toward Castiel and reluctantly agreed.

-oOo-

Castiel was hesitant after they lay Dean down. He hadn't been in Bobby's room before. He wanted to remain with Dean. He knew there were all kinds of social rules and conventions involved with sleeping quarters, but he didn't really care about them right now. He looked completely lost as he turned to Sam. "I want to stay. Can I stay?" Sam patted his shoulder. "Sure, Cas. You can stay." Cas sat on the end of the bed and looked at shirtless Dean in his boots and jeans, imagining he was awake. If -when- he woke, would he be whole? Sane? Content? Cas stroked Dean's denim-covered calf, pulled Dean's feet onto his lap and started untying his laces.

"Uh… what are you doing?" Sam asked, concerned the former-angel might be losing his mind.

"I'm removing his footwear." Sam didn't question any further. Probably that short answer was usually enough for Dean, who tended not to ask 'why'.

Cas laid Dean's boots neatly next to the bed, before slowly and meditatively rubbing the soles of Dean's socked feet. It might be hours before Dean woke up. Cas refused to contemplate any other outcome. Trying to, made his heart beat too fast, his head pound and his vision narrow. Cas rolled Dean onto his side, bent Dean's leg and folded Dean's arm under his chest. He couldn't meet Sam's eyes. "I didn't feel anything, then Crowley made me _so_ angry. And now I can't _stop_ feeling."

Sam watched, frowning in confusion. "You can't stop feeling, Cas. You can only learn how to handle it."

"Like Dean does?"

"Touché. No, he _denies_ his feelings. Well… he used to."

Cas tucked a pillow under Dean's head and pulled Dean's other arm underneath the pillow.

Sam's brow creased further. "What the hell are you doing, Cas?"

"It's how he sleeps," Cas explained patiently as he pulled the flat, lumpy comforter up to Dean's bare shoulders and rubbed them in large, slow circles. It was true. Now that he had pointed it out, Sam recognised it as the position Dean was usually in when Sam would come back to their hotel room with breakfast early in the morning. "Huh. So it is." He looked at Cas with fresh eyes.

-oOo-

The doctor had pronounced Dean safe for now. He owed Bobby a favour so he didn't ask the gruff man any questions out of respect for that, but he had carefully felt all over Dean's head and checked his arms and feet for track marks. In his experience this kind of thing was usually the result of a head injury or drugs, but he could find no evidence of either after checking Dean's eyes, mouth, pulse,, breathing and blood pressure.

"Keep him in the recovery position," he said putting his stethoscope and penlight in his bag. "I can't tell you anything without tests and scans," he directed a stern look at Bobby, "but I guess you know that."

"Thanks. I owe you."

"No, you don't. You don't owe me. And _I_ don't owe _you_." He left without waiting for Bobby to show him out.

"Short memory," Bobby grumbled, "I guess some people want to forget what they can't understand."

"Yes." Castiel agreed. "Dean's inability to forget pains him." Sam looked at him surprised. "Me and you? We have to talk. Preferably before Dean wakes up and _stops_ us."

Cas' hands fidgeted with the comforter. He said tightly "I don't want to talk. I want Dean to wake up."

Sam sighed. "Me too, but we can't change what's going to happen. We might as well distract ourselves by talking."

Cas didn't respond, stroking one of Dean's feet again.

"Well, I ain't gonna sit around and braid your hair and make you cocoa," Bobby interrupted. "I'm gonna get some sleep. When you want me to keep an eye on Dean - call me."

They watched him leave without comment.

"So…" Sam began.

Cas turned to him in confusion. "So…?"

"…you and Dean." Sam waved his hands around ineffectually and made it a statement, not a question.

"Yes." Cas met Sam's eyes unabashed. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No. But why? How? When?"

Cas frowned. "I don't understand. Why do I need to give you a reason?" Good question. Sam ignored it as he didn't have an answer. He got the feeling that Cas was subtly stonewalling him. He was not about to be outdone by a week-old ex-angel. "What I mean is-"

"I don't think I want to discuss it with you."

"What? Why?"

"Because… it doesn't involve you. And… you're making it … complex." Cas looked away with a crinkled brow and stroked his fingers through Dean's hair. Dean was so still. When they were alone he and Cas were completely at ease touching and showing affection. They had been discreet around others. Until now.

Sam felt just a little guilty. Maybe Cas was tired. But he couldn't stop now, when he felt like maybe he was getting somewhere.

"And it isn't? Complex?"

"No." It might have been his imagination but Sam thought Cas sounded a little belligerent. "Its simple. And satisfying…" He searched for the right words to express himself. "Comforting. Dean and I understand each other." He met Sam's eyes again, this time challengingly.

"Okay. I'm okay with that. In fact that's _good_." Sam gulped. Maybe this was one time he _didn't_ want to dig deeper. Satisfying? Eeyeuw.

Cas gave him a sidelong glare. "And _don't_ make Dean uncomfortable. When he wants to talk to you about it, he will." Sam was too surprised to answer.

Cas refused to leave Dean at any point during the night. Sam didn't win that debate either.

-oOo-

Sam rinsed his toothbrush and tapped it on the side of the sink. Life with Dean was never dull. Or peaceful. He supposed he should have known. But there were so many things about Cas and Dean's relationship from the start that just weren't… normal. He arranged his blanket on the couch. So when did the just plain weird end, and the 'relationship weird' begin? Did even _they_ know? Sam had the beginnings of a headache. So many questions, so little likelihood of answers. Sam sighed loudly and thumped his pillow into submission.

-oOo-

Dean was relaxed. He felt maybe there was something he was supposed to do, or like his alarm would go off soon, but until then he'd just lie there drifting, half asleep. It was dark and he was in a comfortable, warm bed. Waking up comfortable and rested didn't happen often enough in his line of work, so he dug in further under the comforter and sighed happily.

He heard a quiet snore in front of him. Suddenly he remembered how he got here. His whole body froze up as he held his breath, listening. "Cas?" His voice was croaky from disuse. He heard the sudden rustle of someone jerking awake and a gasping intake of breath. "Dean?"

"I can't see anything. Did I get my voice back, but go blind? Sounds like just my lu -Uff!" Something warm and unyielding slammed into him and he winced remembering his shoulder should hurt, but he felt fine, if a little assaulted. He ran his hands up the living projectile. T-shirt fabric, sleek shoulders, short, soft hair and a familiar sleepy scent that made him warm inside. Definitely Cas. He felt a recognisable scraping sensation at his jaw.

"Dude, you have to shave again. How long was I out?" His only answer was the tightening of Cas' arms around him as Cas proceeded to nuzzle at his neck like a blind, hungry kitten. Dean chuckled, tangled his fingers into Cas' hair and massaged the back of Cas' head in encouragement. Cas gave a deep sigh and seemed to calm himself.

" _Never_ make me do that again, Dean," he growled.

"I don't plan to. Listen…"

Cas sat up straight. "Don't, Dean."

"No, no, let me say this." He took Cas' silence for acceptance. "I'm sorry …"

Cas wasn't sure what Dean was going to say, but he tried to be prepared for something reversionary that would shred his defenceless emotions. Something like 'I'm sorry -if you thought this meant something.' Dean took note of how still Cas suddenly was. He felt for Cas' hands in the dark.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get your grace back. I'm sorry I was a dick to you so many times, when all you ever did was help me, sacrifice yourself, for me. When you had your own problems, that I didn't even think about. And you _still_ kept putting me first. I kept expecting to see the 'I've-given-up-on-you' face, but I never did. Instead I got an angry, smitey," he laughed nervously, "slightly erotic, beating in an alley* - I'm just … sorry." It was disjointed and not very eloquent, but Cas didn't care because it was heartfelt.

"You're not going to run away and hide? Like… like a - a little bitch?" Dean burst out laughing at Cas' distrustful tone. At Dean's warm laugh, Cas felt like his chest would burst with a strangely enjoyable ache. Dean drew his thumb over Cas' unshaven jaw and followed it with a kiss. "No, baby. No running." Cas swept his hands over Dean's chest, over his shoulders to stroke around Dean's ears with his fingers. "I like that."

"Well, I can't say the same about being called a little bitch," his voice was humorous as his fingertips traced under Cas' jaw, down his neck and kept going. It gave Cas courage. "You _love_ me," he accused. Dean's palms flattened against Cas' ribs and his arms slid around Cas slowly. He tenderly rubbed his cheek against Cas'. "Shh, don't tell anyone," he said huskily. Knowing Dean loved him, and getting Dean to admit it, were two different things. As long as Dean could admit it to himself, Cas was content.

"Say it again."

"What …baby?"

"Yes."

Dean shook his head and smiled lopsidedly to himself. He brushed his lips against Cas' ear, giving his earlobe a gentle suck but found he didn't want to stop there. He kissed his way along Cas' jaw with long, sucking kisses all the way to Cas' chin. Something between a laugh and a sigh escaped Cas and made Dean's heart swell. He cupped Cas face and carefully explored with his fingers until he brushed Cas' lips. They were smiling. He slowly leaned in until their noses bumped in the dark and he felt Cas' soft breath on his lips. They started a marathon of slow, experimental, wet kisses. The sound of heavy, hesitant breaths catching, and moist lips separating and meeting again, filled the dark. Dean loved the way Cas' thumb fitted the dip in his chin when he encouraged Dean to open a little more. Dean's tongue pressed deeper and he anchored his fingers in the back of Cas' hair. It felt like they were giving permission, to try things, to see how they belonged. Cas' tongue and lips were deliciously mobile. His kisses had become more drawn out and passionate, full of heartache and relief. He made short breathless sounds, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what. Dean occasionally stopped to catch his breath, turning his face and pressing it to Cas' cheek. Cas gripped at Dean's bare hips, leaned down to kiss his neck, sucking at the place just below his ear and scouring it with his hot tongue. He squirmed against Dean at Dean's incoherent moan. Dean's breath caught as he felt hot firmness pressed against his thigh. He wrapped an arm tightly around Cas and hauled him closer.

"I'm telling you Bobby, I heard som-" Sam had flipped the light switch and was nailed to the spot staring, half way through his sentence.

"Aw, hell no! Not in _my_ bed, you don't!" Bobby remonstrated loudly.

Dean sat up blushing and blinking in the light, his arms wrapped protectively around Castiel, one hand still cradling Cas' head. Being so suddenly yanked from his immersion in Cas' scent, flavour and touch left him slightly dazed. "No, we didn't! We weren't… We haven't… " Bobby raised his brows waiting for at least one complete sentence.

"Consummated?" Sam supplied helpfully. His eyes took in the sweaty, dishevelled hair, flushed cheeks and plump lips. "Lies make the baby Jesus cry, Dean." Cas frowned, "That makes _no_ sense." Sam tried hard not to laugh at Dean's ultimate bitch face, which put his own to shame. Dean scowled like a gargoyle, embarrassed and more than a little frustrated at the disruption. "Shut up." Sam grinned back at him. "I'd tell _you_ to shut up, but you've probably had enough of that for a while."

Despite the fact that he _should_ have needed brain bleach for seeing Cas and Dean in the middle of a deep tonguing session, Sam grinned like an imbecile. Dean grumbled something under his breath. Cas leaned his head curiously at him. "What is a cockbl-" Dean immediately slapped his hand over Cas' mouth. "Later!" he whispered loudly, raising his eyebrows in a plea. Cas stared into his eyes, nodded and was released. He leaned in and whispered something in Dean's ear. Dean blushed. As though there were no one else in the room, Dean smiled into Cas' eyes and kissed his temple.

"Well, you look all healed up to me. Get yourselves the _hell_ outta my bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Season 5, Episode 18: Point of No Return. You need to watch it. It _defines_ homoerotic subtext.
> 
> Feel free to guess what Cas whispered. *evil laugh*


	18. Epilogue: We'll Google the Good Stuff.

Balthazar stared at the blinding white, punctured by the occasional black silhouettes of the tips of trees, weighed down with more white. His head tilted to the side as he tried to sense the location of the demon. He'd had a brief talk with Gabriel. Since Crowley had only expressed an opinion (albeit a badly timed one, in poor taste) and not done any actual damage, the archangel was content for Balthazar to unbind him from the snowdrift Gabriel had set him in. Besides which, with no way to destroy the soul-stealing blade and no idea what had actually happened to Castiel's grace, they might need the demon's co-operation in future.

Balthazar waved a hand lazily and the demon appeared. Crowley looked mildly surprised at his surroundings but otherwise unimpressed. He brushed a stray snowflake from the shoulder of his dark suit. "Where's my Glen Craig?"

Balthazar straightened the cuffs of his own suit jacket and raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome."

One side of Crowley's mouth rose in a smirk. "This could be the beginning of something."

Balthazar's face remained coolly impassive. "Diabolical or divine?"

-oOo-

It was Dean's idea that they all go out to the local bar where their last catastrophe had begun. Dean was curious to see if human Cas would still have the pool skills he used to have as an angel. Cas still seemed to have an excellent eye for pool, although he wasn't perfect like he used to be, now that he had all of the little annoyances and discomforts of being human. The itches, the tremors, the distractions.

Since Cas now made the occasional mistake which gave Dean and Sam a chance, they actually had a good game. It didn't hurt that losing his turn meant Dean could appreciate Cas' ass as he bent over the pool table either.

Cas refused to get drunk and ended up driving a completely pie-eyed Sam and Dean home at two in the morning, on his new fake driver's license, as they hollered the lyrics to 'Blaze of Glory' at the tops of their lungs.

Dean kind of liked having someone beside him in the morning to hand him some aspirin and a glass of water. Someone who didn't make him sleep in another room because he was drunk, and didn't comment on his morning breath. Someone who smoothed his hair back and kissed his hot forehead and looked at him with eyes that were fond, not judgemental. Cas' smile was so undemanding, so giving.

"Cas…your smile makes my heart swell and my soul rise up."

"Dean, that's … _beautiful_." Cas' smile grew teasing. "You're still drunk."

Dean sighed heavily. "Yeah." He gratefully leaned his head against Cas' cool shoulder as Cas kissed his forehead again.

Apparently hangovers made Dean maudlin.

-oOo-

Dean and Cas were slumped on the couch, sharing earplugs to the one mp3 player. Dean's face was so unimpressed it was almost pained. In contrast, Cas' eyes were closed, his brow peacefully smooth, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. Dean pulled his earplug out. He turned towards Cas. "You _like_ this?"

Cas opened his eyes and stayed splayed on the couch, turning only his head. "You don't?"

Dean paused, then evaded the question. "Show me your play list." Cas straightened himself up and handed over the player. Dean's thumb scooted over the screen as he frowned at it.

"Awful. Yuck. Awful. Embarrassing. Sam-worthy. No. God no. Awful."

A crease had appeared on Cas' brow, that was growing with each judgement from Dean's lips. Dean looked up and noticed Cas' expression.

"Hey, no! I mean, its your play list, you gotta have what you like. I'm just saying…" He handed the player back apologetically. "Hey. You don't have to like what _I_ like. Free will, remember?" He smiled and stroked Cas' cheek, some of Cas' frown smoothing out at the gesture.

Cas couldn't help it, a corresponding smile slowly grew on his own lips. Dean leaned in and kissed the smile.

"Barry White? Really?" Dean murmured, still smiling.

"Sam said you'd _like_ it." Cas smoothed the collar of Dean's jacket and used it to pull Dean in for another kiss, before sliding it off Dean's shoulders.

"Yeah, I kinda do. In context." Dean grinned, toppled Cas over onto his back and slid onto him. Cas looked surprised but not unwilling.

"Culture lesson. Barry White? Make-out music. Lesson over."

Dean began kissing Cas' neck, mouthing his way around under his jaw to the other side where he began to suck more intensely with the intention of leaving a mark. Cas closed his eyes and arched his neck. His hands snuck under Dean's t-shirt, and smoothed over his back. "Damn, you smell good, Cas," Dean breathed against his ear. Cas' only response was a quiet "Mm." Dean leaned away a little to look at Cas. "Is that all I get?" Cas' eyes were still closed. "Mm hm." Dean leaned in and kissed Cas on the lips. He worked at Cas' lips with small licks, growing slower and firmer, working his way into Cas' hungry mouth, until he finally elicited a groan from him. He murmured against Cas' lips "That's it, baby. Tell me."

Cas slid his leg between Dean's and bent his knee a little, putting some pressure on Dean's swollen cock. His hands moved to Dean's ass and squeezed, gentle but firm. "Sweet - holy - fuck… Jesus, Cas."

"You're being incoherent, Dean."

"Oh, so _now_ you can talk."

Cas smiled and kissed Dean, sucking at Dean's tongue, encouraging him to explore his mouth again. Every squeeze from Cas' strong fingers had Dean squirming against him. Cas knew they weren't being very discreet, but it felt so good. And it kept feeling better. He wanted to know just _how_ good it could get. Dean's hands were curved under his shoulders, pressing him closer. Every second breath from Dean was a groan, their sinuous movements against each other becoming firmer and faster. "Dean…more," Cas panted. Dean became still and leaned his forehead against Cas' shoulder, breathing heavily. "Okay, _that's it_."

Cas rubbed his back under his t-shirt, concerned. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"We have to stop, or this is going to get embarrassing." Cas' brow furrowed in confusion. Dean blushed.

"Dude. Don't make me spell it out."

"You've gone from 'baby' to 'dude'. Did I do something…culturally unacceptable?"

Dean tangled his fingers into Cas' hair and kissed him deeply. Cas nuzzled back at him in relief.

"No, baby, no. It's just, uh…I was getting pretty close to…you know. Coming."

Realisation dawned in Cas' eyes. "Orgasm? That's why it felt…"

Dean's eyes closed tightly and he sighed resignedly before answering. "Yes."

"Oh." Cas rubbed the small of Dean's back with one hand and placed the other over Dean's heart.

"Yeah. Oh. And I am _so_ not doing that with clothes on. Or on Bobby's couch."

Cas circled his thumb slowly over Dean's nipple through the fabric of his t-shirt. "Where then?" he whispered against Dean's cheek.

Dean swallowed loudly and spoke quietly "Dammit, Cas." Cas made a needy noise and kissed Dean urgently. Deep, langourous kissing began. Appreciative sounds rolled from Cas' throat, while Cas rubbed his nose affectionately against Dean's cheek.

"Dean…" He didn't know how to describe the aching heat that was growing in him. 

"You wanna stop for whatever reason, you just say so, okay?" Dean's fingers held Cas' chin. Cas watched Dean's face solemnly and nodded. Cas' eyes traced his lips, his jaw, his eyes, then he pulled Dean's face closer and unhurriedly stroked his tongue against Dean's.

Dean breathed out a groan. "Do you have any idea what that does…?" Dean closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Cas'. Cas kissed him again, his lips lingering before he answered, smiling. "I do _now_."

Cas rolled his hips against Dean, holding onto Dean tightly, his palms flat against Dean's sweating spine. He felt Dean shudder, and respond by rubbing himself against Cas' thigh and making soft sounds. Dean levered himself up a few inches, unbuttoned and unzipped Cas' bulging jeans. His warm hand smoothed over Cas' stomach which made him twitch ticklishly, then strayed further, over soft, warm fabric, until he cupped Cas in his palm. Cas gasped and nestled himself against Dean's hot palm, squirming. Dean gave a slow, firm squeeze. Dean felt Cas' muffled cry, his face against Dean's neck, flesh twitching and sudden hot wetness pressed against his wrist. Dean felt a matching heat in his chest as Cas panted, moist lips against Dean's ear, making small sounds of effort. Dean felt his body respond to Cas' sounds by shuddering and tensing, the warmth in his chest expanding, so that it was almost painful. He just wanted to give Cas everything good that he could. He slipped his damp hand into Cas' hair, the other hand curled against Cas' neck and kissed him hungrily. He stopped long enough to gently bite and lick Cas' lips. He could barely catch his breath."Love you, baby… Cas. I love you."

His abdominal muscles jerked involuntarily and he pressed his face into Cas' shoulder. His body trembled with the strength of his need for Cas; not Cas' body, but Cas himself, his voice, his expressions, his caring, his smile, his questions. His pounding heart drowned out everything. He only knew he wanted more of Cas as he felt a deep-seated tension break and pulsed hotly into his jeans. He felt Cas' hands tentatively stroking at his hair in concern as he relaxed, his full weight draped over Cas.

For something that he'd sworn he wouldn't do, and hadn't done since high school, he felt pretty good. He kissed Cas' neck over and over again. He felt the vibration of a contented hum from Cas. He cupped Cas face and kissed him as Cas kissed back eagerly. Cas lips tasted of salty perspiration, the inside of his mouth warm and sweet. Dean had to admit it felt kind of good to get messy and lose control a little. And confess his love like a girl. No. He _refused_ to feel bad about it. He _needed_ Cas to know. With the lives they led, they couldn't leave things like that unsaid. Not again.

Cas' fingers trailed through his hair and stroked behind his ear. "Dean? Can we do that again?"

Dean's smile grew. "We can do a lot more than that." Not that he had much idea how, but they'd figure it out, because Cas was astoundingly honest, and Dean would do anything that was good for Cas. "First - we shower and get a change of clothes before Bobby and Sam come back. Then you and me are going to Google some stuff and … learn." He brushed back Cas' hair and kissed his forehead tenderly. Cas smiled back, his eyes alive with curiosity.

-oOo-

"Bobby?"

He looked up from cleaning out the barrel of his old shot gun to see an abnormally hesitant Dean in the kitchen doorway. He frowned. "What's put the wind up _you_?"

"Uh…" Dean didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He'd promised himself he would do this, so he was going to do it, if it killed him. "I've gotta say something and I just want you to hear me out and not interrupt, okay?" He held his hands out to forestall any response from the older man.

Bobby shrugged and nodded. These boys were getting stranger every day. He continued to clean out the shotgun.

"Alright," Dean continued, "here goes… You've always been a constant in mine and Sam's life, since we were little kids. You're always there for us and you've saved our asses more than a few times. You were there for us when we had no-one else, and you were the voice of reason when me and Sam couldn't think straight. I want you to know, I don't say this shit lightly and I don't take it for granted. You're like a father to me, Bobby, and you know … I love you. There. I said it." He stood waiting. Bobby had stopped cleaning the shotgun at Dean's awkwardly forced words. He pushed the front of his cap up and met Dean's eyes without saying a word for several harrowing moments.

"I know all that, you idjit. Now scat, so I can sob my tender little heart out," Bobby growled sarcastically. Dean's mouth quirked into a relieved grin. "You got it." He left feeling like a looming disaster had been averted.

-oOo-

"See you, Sam! Bobby! We're going fishing!"

Dean threw a couple of rugs, a plastic cooler, a backpack and a couple of fishing rods into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut.

Sam came out of the barn and strode over wiping grease from his hands with a rag. "Since when?"

"Since I decided Cas has to learn to fish."

"Fishing takes patience, Dean. Its not your area of expertise."

"Cas has plenty enough patience for the both of us." Which was a lie.

And if they came back looking dishevelled and smug and without any fish, no-one commented.

-oOo-

"Hey, Sam."

Sam looked up from inspecting what was left of a stripped out, faded '68 Mustang Fastback that Bobby had him fixing. Numerous engine parts were arrayed on a tarpaulin beside the faded tomato-red car.

"Hey." Sam wiped his hands on a rag and looked evasive.

Dean leaned against the car and eyed Sam speculatively. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days. It's like you've been avoiding me or something." There was awkward silence from Sam before he answered disbelievingly. " _Really_? You _want_ to talk?"

Dean's nose wrinkled. "… Yeah, about a couple of things. So just… let me get it out, okay?"

Sam leaned against the car beside him and nodded. "Sure."

Dean cleared his throat and looked at the car parts on the floor. "… You're a good brother, okay?" Dean held his hands up "I'm not saying you haven't made mistakes. But I've made my own share of bad calls, so we'll just call that 'water under the bridge'. There were times when I didn't think we'd both make it this far - but I'm glad we did. I get that you don't see things the same way I do, and that's fine. If I was a dick, I'm sorry. I was only trying to look after you. That's all I was ever trying to do… so yeah.'

"Jeez, Dean. Are you dying or something?"

"Not this time. And I'm not done yet."

"Oh, sorry. Please, _go on_. I'm intrigued that being mute might have finally made you see sense." Dean snorted, then drew a deep breath.

"About Cas. And me…" Sam said nothing and waited. Dean's eyes stayed glued to the scattered car parts.

"It's… he's… I'm…" Dean sighed in exasperation and wiped a hand over his face. Sam looked perplexed and amused at the same time. Dean took a breath and tried again.

"I really want it to work. It's not just a 'thing'." He looked at Sam earnestly. "He knows me. He _gets_ me, even though we both know I'm a pain in the ass."

"I know, Dean."

"You do?"

"Cas already pretty much told me that you guys are serious, and I need to let you guys work it out."

"He did? Huh. I can't decide if that's awesome or if I'm horrified."

"He cares, Dean. And I think he really does 'get' you. I don't think it's going to be easy because, well - it's _you_. Also he's still got a lot of learning to do. And if you hurt him, I'm not sure whose side I'll be on." Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled a crooked smile at Dean, who grinned back for a moment.

"Duly noted. Thing is…I was kind of thinking…Cas and I could take a road trip. Alone. To… figure stuff out."

"Wow, Dean. Are you making… plans? Like _future_ plans? Just…wow."

"Shut up," Dean said smiling.

"Or is this about deflowering?"

"See _this_ is why Cas and I have to be away from here, bitch. And _technically_ … that horse has bolted." Dean strode quickly out the barn doors.

Sam stood, mouth open, trying to decide whether to ask or not.

-oOo-

Dean loves burying his nose in Cas' hair, against his skin, in the scent and the feel of him. He loves that this is how he gets to fall asleep every night.

Cas wakes up with his face smooshed against the side of Dean's neck, a hot palm between his shoulder blades, holding him close, warm breath in his hair. He loves that this is how he wakes every morning.

THE END.  
Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!


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